


Fire In My Soul

by 50sNettle



Category: Wizards vs Aliens
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Minor Violence, basically every WvA character turns up in some way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50sNettle/pseuds/50sNettle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.”</p><p>She frowns. “Huh?”</p><p>The boy rolls his eyes. “I'm the one who pulled your sorry self out of Hell,” he repeats in simpler terms, a patronising tone to his words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> So...yeah. This is happening. A Supernatural!AU. Let’s go. It was a oneshot, now it is decidedly not.
> 
> *Spoilers for Supernatural throughout.*
> 
> Title comes from the song 'Me, Myself & I', by G-Eazy and Bebe Rexha.
> 
> DISCLAIMER. WvA is owned by the BBC, and Supernatural is owned by the CW network.

University isn’t what Lexi expects at all.  
  
She had never gotten fully settled into the usual British education system - who would, when you moved schools every week, every two weeks? She never felt the need to care about higher education, until about a year ago. A year ago, it became all that she could think about. Not the hunts she went on, not demons she fought, not the monsters that ordinary people didn’t believe in. Suddenly, the idea of the apple pie life, the one that she and Varg had always abhorred, particularly when their father made one of his re-appearances, was highly appealing.  
  
Of course, when her acceptance letter to the small London university had arrived at the cheap hotel that they were staying in, no one else had been as happy as she. Varg had sat in the corner, and said virtually nothing throughout the entire ordeal, whilst their father ranted and raged at her for what seemed to be hours and hours, with Lexi raging back.  
  
 _Why should I give up my dream?_ She’d yelled, arms folded, letter clutched to her chest, like a lifeline.  
  
 _You know why._ Her father had reached for the glass of water on the table and downed it in one. _Our family are hunters, and that’s what we’ve always been. If you suddenly think that you’re too good for us, for this, then you can see yourself out, close the door behind you, and never darken my doorstep again.  
_  
 _Maybe I will!_   
  
That had startled her father and brother, both of them looking at her with slightly wide eyes, her father’s lips pressed together in a tight line that left no room for discussion or apology, and there was no going back after that. She’d packed up her things almost immediately, caught the next bus to the university, and lived on campus ever since.  
  
It isn’t perfect. Lexi would be lying if she said that. But she has something that’s hers, finally, hers to cherish, and she won’t ever let it go.  
  
Even if all everybody else wants to do is drink themselves into a early grave.  
  
“Lexi!” There’s a tapping on her door, making her look up from her current analysis task, the one that’s due in tomorrow. Her housemate, Alicia, is peering around the door, dressed in some kind of elaborate zombie costume.  
  
Ah. Of course. Halloween. Her most hated time of the year. How could she forget?  
  
Lexi raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment on the outfit. “What can I do for you?”  
  
“You know what.” The shorter blonde fixes her with a pointed look. “The party started, like, fifteen minutes ago. We’re missing karaoke right now.”  
  
“Karaoke, huh?” Lexi shakes her head with a smirk. “I, er, I think I’m good, thanks.”  
  
“ _Lexi -_ ” Alicia’s voice takes on a petulant whine. “C’mon. Come out and have some fun with us.”  
  
“I have plenty of fun. And you know how I feel about Halloween.”  
  
“I know. But you could just come out for a drink with us! I know for a fact that Adam really wants you there.”  
  
Lexi snorts. “Well Adam is going to have to be disappointed. I’ve got a lot of assignment stuff to work on, anyway. I don’t want to fail.”  
  
“You? Fail?” Alicia shakes her head. “As if. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say that.”  
  
“I would.” She eyes the book on her desk - _Slaughterhouse Five_ , Vonnegut. “You _sure_ that you don’t want to come?”  
  
“Sure.” Lexi waves her away with a free hand. “But have fun, though. Tell Adam to lay off the rum and coke.”  
  
“Not sure that’s a feat I can accomplish.”  
  
The two share a chuckle, before Alicia disappears from the doorway; Lexi waits until she hears the front door of their building slam shut, before letting out a sigh, letting her reading glasses slide down her nose and land on the desk with a clatter.

* * *

 

The sound of the window slamming from downstairs jolts Lexi from sleep.  
  
She’s fallen asleep at her desk again; her notes are scattered everywhere from her tossing and turning, _Slaughterhouse Five_ lying on the floor beside her chair, the spine now bent. She ducks to retrieve the book, closing it and lying it on top of her essay, before rising from her seat and tiptoeing towards the door of her room. There are three other students in her block - two girls and a boy - and, from the sounds that she can hear from outside the window, the Halloween celebrations are still in full swing. None of her housemates would _ever_ leave a party that hasn’t wrapped up, and certainly wouldn’t enter through the downstairs window, no matter how drunk they were.  
  
The hallway and kitchen are still in darkness as she edges her way down the stairs, half wishing that she had brought her book with her after all, just in case she needs to use it as a weapon of self-defence from any possible drunken burglars that may or may not have broken into her accommodation.  
  
She doesn’t get very far, however. A snap from behind makes her whirl around, only to have someone take advantage of her distraction and grab her from behind, throwing her onto the ground and keeping her pinned.  
  
“You’re getting slow.”  
  
She freezes at the familiar voice, all the fight leaving her body as she stares up at the face above hers, recognisable now, even in the dim light.  
  
“ _Varg?_ ”  
  
Varg chuckles at the incredulous tone of her voice. “Hello, sister.”  
  
“You scared the heck out of me!”  
  
“I’m just keeping you on your toes.” He relaxes his grip on her, holding out a hand instead. Lexi smirks, grabbing it, before using her weight to flip them over, so that her brother is now sprawled across the floor and she is stood over him.  
  
“Yeah,” she says, looking down at him now, eyebrow raised. “I’ve noticed.”  
  
“Ah.” Varg recovers after his momentary surprise. “Not _entirely_ a lost cause, I see.” He gets to his feet himself when Lexi doesn’t offer him a hand up, instead moving across the room to flip the light on. Varg looks the same as he always has - dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, rumpled clothes, leather jacket.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
“Well, actually, just now, I was looking for a drink -”  
  
“ _Varg._ ” She narrows her eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Okay, okay. I needed to contact you.”  
  
“Contact me?” Lexi raises an eyebrow. “You, uh, you are aware that _phones_ have been invented, aren’t you?”  
  
“If I had phoned you, sister -” Varg fixes her with a pointed look. “- would you have picked up?”  
  
“Fair point,” she concedes. “But that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”  
  
“It’s about Father.”  
  
“Father?” From the look on his face, he can tell that her entire posture has tensed. “I don’t particularly want to talk about him.”  
  
“Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but the world doesn’t revolve around what you want, Lexi.” Varg’s reply is sharp, before he sucks in a deep breath, composing himself. “Father hasn’t come home for a few days.”  
  
“Is that all? What’s that got to do with me?”  
  
“Okay - I’ll rephrase. Clearly your time amongst normal people has stunted your ability to read subtlety.” Varg rolls his eyes, catching hold of her arm in order to look her in the eye, to make sure that his next words have the full impact.  
  
“Father is on a hunting trip - _and he hasn’t come home for a few days._ ”

* * *

 

"No."  
  
" _Sister -_ "  
  
"No, Varg, I mean it.” Lexi glances back at him over her shoulder. She’s pulled on her jacket, and is leading him back to his car, the battered Ford truck with peeling blue paint, parked on the kerb, the one that their father had driven in his teenage years. “You can't just break in, during the middle of the night, and expect me to drop everything and hit the road with you."  
  
"You're clearly not understanding me, Lexi. Father is _missing_. I need you to help me find him."  
  
"Do you remember the poltergeist in Cornwall? Or the Devil's Gates in Brixton? He was missing then too. He's _always_ missing, Varg, and he's _always_ fine.”  
  
"Not for this long. _Never_ for this long.” Varg lets out an exasperated noise. “Are you going to come with me, or not?"  
  
"For the last time, _no_."  
  
"Lexi -"  
  
"I swore that I was finished with hunting. For good."  
  
"I haven't forgotten. I’m surprised that the whole hotel didn’t hear you, in fact," Varg replies, but his voice sounds overly patronising. "Hunting isn't an easy life, Lexi, but it isn't that bad."  
  
"Oh? You think so? Do you remember what happened when I told Father that I was scared of the monster under my bed?"  
  
"Of course I remember that. What is your point?"  
  
Lexi throws her arms up in the air, frustration finally leaking into her tone. "I was _nine years old!_ He was supposed to, I don’t know, give me a hug, say, _Don't be afraid of the dark, Lexi_ \- he wasn't supposed to hand me a loaded weapon!"  
  
" _Don't be afraid of -_? You must be joking!" Varg grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her around, so that she can see the true extent of his incredulous expression. "Of _course_ you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there."  
  
"Yes, I know, but that's not the point. The way we grew up, after Mother -" Her voice catches a little, and she hopes that Varg doesn't notice. " - died, and Father's obsession to find the thing that killed her. But we still haven't found it. So we kill everything we can find."  
  
"We save many lives doing it."  
  
Lexi shakes her head. "You can try to justify it to yourself all you want. It doesn't change anything. Do you honestly think Mother would have wanted this for us?"  
  
Varg merely rolls his eyes at the comment. "Why waste time dwelling on that? It's not as if we're ever going to find out. And, what about you? You're just going live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?"  
  
"No. Not normal. Just...I don't know. Safe."  
  
"And that's why you ran away."  
  
"I was just going to get my degree. It was Father who said that, if I was going, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing, Varg." She raises her chin defiantly. "I'm staying gone."  
  
"And now Father is in real trouble. If he's not dead already." The words hang in the air between them. Lexi looks down at her trainers, the tatty pink ones that she's had for years, not wanting to look at her brother and see the devotion in his face. Varg has always been loyal to their father - stupidly, loyal, in Lexi's opinion. The kind of loyal that can get you killed.  
  
"I can't do this alone, sister," Varg says suddenly, causing her to look up.  
  
"Yes, you can. You're as good of a hunter as Father is."  
  
Varg inhales slowly, as if considering his next words. "Maybe I don't want to do it alone. Look, Lexi, all this time, all these months, I've never bothered you. I've never asked you for anything - except this."  
  
He has a point. A very good one, in fact. And, besides that, she knows what type of hunter Varg is - he’ll end up getting himself into real trouble if she isn’t there to keep him in check, won’t he? She can’t let that happen.  
  
"Alright," she replies finally, after a long pause of heavy silence. "Fine. I'll...I'll get someone to cover for me tomorrow - but I have to be back by Monday, yes?"  
  
Varg smirks now, all the arrogance back in its usual place. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 

“Staring at it won’t make it turn on any faster.”  
  
Lexi rolls her eyes at the remark, rescuing her phone from the dashboard as Varg opens the door to the driver’s seat and climbs in, a carrier bag of junk food in one of his hands. She switched her phone off as soon as she’d left campus, in order to avoid the inevitable texts from Alicia in response to her sudden disappearance and cryptic note left on the kitchen table.  
  
“It’s fine,” she says, leaning against the open window, elbow crooked. “I just hope I’m not missing anything important.”  
  
“In that place? I doubt it.” Varg rummages in the bag, fishes out a packet of crisps, and chucks it into her lap. The action makes her raise an eyebrow.  
  
“Are you and Father still using fake IDs and credit cards to get by?”  
  
“I’m sorry if that offends you,” Varg replies, rather insincerely. “But hunting isn’t exactly a well-paid career.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She raises an eyebrow at his pocket, where his wallet is kept. “What name did you use this time?”  
  
“Uh -” Varg checks. “Rich Towers.”  
  
Lexi snorts, but doesn’t comment on the name choice. “What are we actually doing here, Varg? What was Father investigating?”  
  
“Disappearances.” Varg leans over, retrieving a stack of paperwork from the front compartment and dumping it in the small gap between their seats. “This is all of the documents I found in his folder.”  
  
Lexi pulls a sheet of paper out of the stack, and looks at it: it’s a missing poster, some eighteen year old boy from Exeter, dated from roughly a month ago.   
  
“So, why didn’t you go with him?” She asks. “Father, I mean.”  
  
“I was already working on my own case. A voodoo incident in Greenwich.”  
  
“He let you go on cases on your own?”  
  
Varg rolls his eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m twenty one now, Lexi. But, yes, this is what Father was investigating. About a month ago, this boy disappeared; they found his car, but he himself had vanished."  
  
"Maybe he was kidnapped."  
  
"Logical assumption - except, here's another one in April." He begins to pass her more papers, more missing posters. "One in December last year, the year before that, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two...ten of them over the past twenty years. All men, all on the same stretch of road. It started happening more and more, so Father went to look into it. That was about three weeks ago. I haven't heard from him since."  
  
“Okay...” Lexi chews her way through the taste of salt and vinegar. “Where do we start? I want to get this over with; Monday is only a couple of days away, and I have a big assignment to - Are you even listening to me?”  
  
“Hm? Oh. Yes. Of course.” Varg suddenly finds himself fascinated by the collection of cassette tapes, inserting one into the player in the dashboard.  
  
“So you heard me when I said about Monday only being a couple of day -” She’s cut off by the opening chords of a song. “Varg!”  
  
“Sorry, I can’t hear you, sister!” Varg shakes his head, before smirking. “The music’s too loud!”  
  
Lexi lets out a huff, before leaning back in her seat, as the car pulls away from the pavement.  
  
“Marilyn Manson?” She says, after a moment of silence. “ _Really_?”  
  
“House rules, Lexi,” Varg replies, swerving around a corner. “Driver picks the music, passenger keeps her mouth shut.”

* * *

"Anything?"  
  
"No." Lexi jumps down off the last step in front of the hospital. "No one matching Father's many aliases in A&E, or the morgue. That's something, at least, right? He's not dead."  
  
"As far as we know," Varg says, grimly, as they both get back into the truck, and quickly reverse out of the parking spot.  
  
"Have a little bit of faith, Varg. Father's come back from worse than this."  
  
"I'm trying. Believe me, I am." They're back on the road now, sailing forward into Exeter. It's been three hours since they left London; they've been on longer journeys in the past, but Lexi is a little out of practise. She finds herself wishing now that she'd brought some of her assignment to work on during that time, instead of being forced to listen to the same seven cassette albums that Varg keeps in the car, the majority of it classic rock. Lexi wonders if Varg knows that an acoustic guitar actually exists.  
  
"Lexi," Varg says suddenly, nodding out of the window. "Look at that."  
  
Lexi leans forward in her seat to get a closer look. There's a collection of police cars gathered by the side of the road, at the other end of the bridge up ahead. A car is situated a few feet away, the windows shattered, the bonnet dented with the impact of some kind of crash.  
  
"Looks like there's been an accident," she muses. "They're not letting any traffic through this way."  
  
"That doesn't matter." Varg pulls over, and puts the car into park.  
  
“What are you doing?” Lexi looks surprised.  
  
“My job.” He rummages in his pocket, pulling out two IDs, handing one to her. “Here.”  
  
"What's this?" She looks at it cautiously, recognising the picture of her fifteen year old self.  
  
"Fake ID. You'll need it." Without another word, Varg gets out of the car, ignoring Lexi's attempts at protesting. She waits another moment, judging whether or not her brother is being serious (a pointless exercise, really, for Varg is nearly always being serious), before climbing out of the car too and following him.  
  
"What are we doing?"  
  
"It's alright. Just follow my lead." Varg gives her shoulder a single tap, his attempt at being reassuring, before striding off in the direction of one of the policemen, looking as though he belongs there. Lexi trails along behind him, unsure of what she's actually doing.  
  
"...sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Nothing." The man stuffs his hands into his pockets as he talks to another officer. Detective Inspector, Lexi guesses, from the snippet of conversation she's picked up. "I don't like it. It's almost too clean."  
  
"You had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Varg says, interrupting smoothly.  
  
The man turns, surprised, before raising an eyebrow, suspicious. "And who are you?"  
  
"MI5." Varg holds his ID up, nudging Lexi to get her to do the same. “Investigating the sudden disappearances.”  
  
The DI narrows his eyes. "You two are a little...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“... _young_ , aren't you?"  
  
Varg merely smiles, still looking rather insincere. "Thank you. That's awfully kind of you. But, back to business. You did have another incident just like this, correct?"  
  
The other man relaxes a little, after a moment of staring at the two of them. "Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There have been others before that."  
  
"Did you know the victim?" Lexi asks.  
  
"Vaguely. He went to school with one of my kids. I think they were friends."  
  
"That must be hard for them."  
  
Varg clears his throat, clearly not interested in any back story. "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all male?"  
  
"No. Not so far as we can tell."  
  
"So, what do you think happened?"  
  
"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder, perhaps?"  
  
"Well, that is exactly the kind of shoddy police work I would expect," Varg says, causing Lexi to stomp on his foot. If he feels the pain, he doesn't show it.  
  
"Thank you for your time, sir," Lexi says aloud, putting a hand on Varg's shoulder, using it to steer him away.  
  
"What was that about?" She hisses, as soon as they are relatively out of earshot. "You can't go around talking to police like that!"  
  
"Come on, sister. They don't really know what's going on."  
  
"Neither do we!"  
  
"We know more than what they do. If we're going to find Father, then we've got to get to the bottom of this ourselves."  
  
"And how do you suggest that we do that?"

* * *

"Look at this."  
  
Varg raises an eyebrow at the paper that Lexi has just dropped onto the table in front of him. They had chosen to head to the library after their conversation with the police, much to the elder sibling's chagrin. Research has always been Lexi’s area of expertise.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's kind of this local legend. The Woman In White. She was apparently murdered, decades ago, out by the bridge, where that kid went missing earlier."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up disappears forever."  
  
"Do you think that this is what we're looking for?"  
  
"Not exactly." Lexi pulls up a chair next to him. "See, I did some googling when I found out about this, but I didn’t find anything. But, then I though, well, angry spirits are born out of violent death, aren't they? So -"  
  
" - Maybe it's not murder," Varg finishes, realisation dawning in his expression.  
  
"Exactly. So I changed the search - and found this -" She hands him another sheet of A4, a print-out of an article from the early 1980s. "In 1981, a local woman, Elizabeth, committed suicide by jumping off the bridge and drowning."  
  
Varg skims the article. "Why?"  
  
"There." Lexi points to a certain paragraph with her index finger, reading aloud. " _Hours before her death, Ms Hatcher had called 999 for an ambulance after she found her young child in the bath, struggling to breathe. The child, aged five, was later pronounced dead due to asphyxiation._ "  
  
"Hm." Is all Varg says on that, but there's a slight sense of sympathy about him for a moment, before he clears his throat. "So she jumped off the bridge."  
  
"Yep. The same one that we passed earlier."  
  
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, sister?"

* * *

“This wasn’t _quite_ what I was thinking, Varg.”  
  
“Stop complaining.” Varg braces himself against the cold, as he joins Lexi at the side of the bridge, and the two of them lean over, looking down at the murky water below. “We would have ended up coming here anyway, even if we had followed your plan; I was just cutting corners.”  
  
“Of _course_ you were,” Lexi mutters, before raising her voice to normal volume. “Do you think Father would have been here?”  
  
“He was chasing the same story, and now we’re chasing him.” Varg shrugs his shoulders. “So, yes, it’s rather likely.”  
  
“He’s not here now, though, is he? What are we supposed to do?”  
  
"We keep looking, until we find him."  
  
"For how long? It could take months and months to track him down - and I told you, I've got to be back at school by Monday -"  
  
"Monday. Yes, I know." Varg looks irritated at being reminded of it, yet again. "You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to go to university, finish your degree, meet some nice normal man, get married, have your own children? Really?"  
  
"Maybe. Some day. Why shouldn’t I think about that?"  
  
"Uh hu." Her brother looks unconvinced. "Do your friends know the truth about you? Do they know about the things you, me, our family, have done?"  
  
"No, and they're not going to know."  
  
Varg snorts. "Well, that doesn't sound very loyal. Lying to them. What happens if you meet someone that you fall in love with? Aren’t relationships based on loyalty, rather than lies?"  
  
"I'm not lying to them."  
  
"But you're not being entirely truthful, though, are you? That’s still lying. You can pretend all you want, Lexi, I won't stop you - but, sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are."   
  
He moves back from the edge of the bridge, and begins to walk back towards the car. Lexi lingers for a moment, digesting his words, before following him, striding to catch up.  
  
"And who's that? Who am I, really?"  
  
"You're a hunter, sister, plain and simple. You're one of us."  
  
"No." She glares at him. "I'm not like you and Father. This is not going to be my life."  
  
"You have a responsibility to -"  
  
"To what? Father, and his... _crusade?_ If it wasn't for pictures, I wouldn't even remember what our mother _looked_ like."  
  
"That is not the point."  
  
"What difference would it make, Varg? Really? If we do find whatever killed her, Mother is still gone. She isn't coming back, whatever we do."  
  
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Varg says sharply, before inhaling deeply. “Okay, Lexi.”  
  
“Okay, what?”

  
“If you’re such a _genius_ university student now, where would you look next?”

* * *

“Was this _really_ your great plan?”  
  
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”  
  
Varg slams the door to the truck, a few paces behind his sister as they head in the direction of the hotel up ahead. “There are over twenty hotels in Exeter, Lexi. I thought you said that you had to be back by Monday.”  
  
“Trust me, it’ll work. I’ve thought this through.”  
  
“Have you? That will make a change.” He grins at the look on her face. “Do enlighten me.”  
  
“Think about it.” She holds the door open for Varg, as the two of them step inside the hotel reception. “If Father was investigating around this area, he’d stay close to the bridge. That narrows it down; these are the closest hotels in the area that he could realistically afford to stay in without attracting attention.” She turns to smile at the person on the front desk - a bored-looking man with a three-day stubble, a hint of irritation in his eyes at the fact that they interrupted his reading of the local paper.  
  
“Excuse me,” she says brightly, rummaging in her pocket for the fake ID Varg had given her previously. “MI5. We’re currently in the middle of an investigation, and we’re looking for someone who we think could be a possible witness.”  
  
“Yes.” Varg digs a photograph out of his pocket, one of their father, sliding it across the counter. “Have you seen this man?”  
  
The receptionist glances at it for a second, before nodding. “Yeah. He booked a room for the month about three weeks ago.”  
  
“Really?” Lexi exchanges a look with Varg, who rolls his eyes. “Could you tell me which room?”

* * *

 

“Wow.” Varg raises an eyebrow at the state of the hotel room. “Father was busy.”  
  
“It would seem so.” Lexi begins to sift through the papers on the desk; almost every available surface is covered in some kind of document. There’s a half eaten burger there too, along with a portion of chips, barely touched. She checks it, before dropping it back on the desk in disgust. “Ugh. The food’s starting to go off. He hasn’t been here for a couple of days, at least.”  
  
"No," Varg agrees, swiping a finger through the thick lines of salt spread along the window pane . "Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in, by the looks of it."  
  
"Indeed." Lexi has wandered over to look at the paper covering the walls. "The victims. Father found records of all of them."  
  
Varg rises to his feet and joins her. "I don't understand. Different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection to be found. What do these men have in common? What about the Woman in White legend?”  
  
“Not sure. I’ll have a look. There’s bound to be something on it somewhere - see, Father found the same article we did.” She taps it on the wall. "But, if we're dealing with an angry spirit, he would have found the corpse and destroyed it."  
  
"Does the article say where she's buried?"  
  
"No, not that I can tell. If I were Father, though, I would ask her husband." She taps the article again. "Joseph. He should be around sixty four now, if he's still alive."  
  
"All right." Varg looks thoughtful for a moment. “See if you can find anything on the Woman In White; call me if you do. I won’t be long.”  
  
“Why? Where are you going?”  
  
“I -” He rips the article from the wall and tucks it into his pocket. “- am going to go and find an address for Mr Hatcher.”

* * *

 

“You’ll never guess what I found.”  
  
She can practically hear Varg smirking from the other end of the phone line, over the growl of the truck engine in the background. “I can barely contain myself, sister. Do go on.”  
  
“Okay, so, basically, the Woman In White isn’t just a local myth. It’s been going on for hundreds of years, all sorts of different places, all across the world. They’re often called Weeping Women.”  
  
“What’s your point?”  
  
“My point is, despite them all being different women, they all share the same story. When they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them, and these women, suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children, taking their own lives when they realised what they had done. Now, according to this -” She checks the research in front of her, the information that their father had found. “- their spirits are therefore cursed, stalking backstreets and waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him.”  
  
“Well, that _would_ explain a lot,” Varg concedes.  
  
“Did you get in touch with the husband?”  
  
“He didn’t seem too pleased about it. Father had already been to see him, about a month ago, asking about where Elizabeth was buried. She’s buried behind the old house, the one in Exeter where they lived before all of this happened.”  
  
“Why hasn’t he destroyed the corpse, then?” Lexi wonders aloud. “That isn’t like him.”  
  
“Well, that’s just it. He’s gone.”  
  
“What do you mean he’s gone?”  
  
“He left Exeter. Mr Hatcher gave me these co-ordinates; Father knew that we would investigate and eventually make our way to him.”  
  
“Co-ordinates?” Lexi asks, ignoring the way Varg refers to them as a collective. There is no way their father would expect _her_ to be looking into his whereabouts, especially not after their conversation the last time that they had seen each other. “Where to?”  
  
“Not sure yet. I’ll track them when I get back.”  
  
“I don’t understand. What could be so important that Father would leave in the middle of a job? He’s never done that.”  
  
“Well, if we can work out where he’s going, maybe we can get some idea of what’s going on -”  
  
His voice suddenly vanishes; there’s a muted thud, before she can hear the low hum of static from the other end.  
  
“Varg?” She pulls the phone away from her ear, only to stare at it in confusion. “Are you still there? Varg?”  
  
No reply.  
  
“Are you alright? Can you hear me?”   
  
Nothing.  
  
“Varg!”

* * *

Obviously, her brother had taken the truck with him, so that isn’t an option in terms of reaching him. There isn’t time to find another vehicle either, and so Lexi merely takes off into a run, one of her father’s weapons tucked into the waistband of her jeans, not entirely sure where exactly she’s going. She’s unfit and out of practise at the whole hunting thing; the muscles in her legs are burning after only ten minutes of running, but she pushes on.  
  
She doesn’t realise that she’s automatically heading for the bridge until she eventually sees it up ahead and charges towards it, footsteps echoing noisily as she charges over the surface, her reflection running alongside, disappearing once she gets back onto the stretch of road. A car whizzes past her, the driver craning his head in order to get a look at her, but she barely registers it.  
  
She’s pretty sure that her legs are going to give out by the time she sees the truck, by chance, parked in front of the house up ahead. There’s blood across the windscreen, running down it like droplets of rain, and she barely fights back a scream, before her hand is around the gun and she’s firing through the window. The creature, what had once been Mrs Hatcher, distracted, turns and snarls at her, but suddenly she vanishes, and Varg fights his way into a sitting position, trying to keep her in place as he struggles to operate something.  
  
Shouldn’t he be escaping by now?  
  
“Varg, what are you doing?”  
  
“I’m taking her home!” Comes the reply, as Varg slams his foot down on the accelerator, sending the truck hurtling forward; it sails through the front wall of the house, and skids to a stop somewhere inside.  
  
“Varg?” Lexi wastes no time in sprinting towards the house, scrambling her way through the truck-shaped hall in the wall, fighting her way through the rubble until she reaches the vehicle. Varg is slumped over the wheel, bleeding heavily from a cut, but very much alive, going by the rapid breathing.  
  
Lexi yanks the passenger door open, scrambling in beside him. “Varg!”  
  
“Back there...” Her brother only nods over his shoulder. “First aid -”  
  
“Oh, G - Yes, okay, hang on -” Lexi does as she’s told, fumbling for the anti-septic wipes, and cleaning up the blood as best she can. “The wounds don’t look as deep as they did before. I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Here - I’ll put this bandage over this cut - It should stop the most of the bleeding.” She works quickly, patching him up. “What on earth prompted you to do that?”  
  
“She kept saying to me - when she took control of the truck -” Varg pats the dashboard affectionately. “She said “ _I can never go home_ ”. Yet she brought me here anyway. I merely realised that it was connected to the Woman in White legend, the part about children -”  
  
“She was afraid to come back, face what she had done to her child. When you brought her inside, her soul was laid to rest in the house where they had died.” Lexi grins at her brother. “I’m starting to think _you’re_ the genius here, Varg.”  
  
“Clearly I am.” He weakly aims a friendly punch on the shoulder in her direction. “I mean, why the heck did you _shoot_ her?”  
  
“Hey.” She sends him a warning look, before sticking her tongue out. “Saved your helpless sorry self, didn’t I?”

* * *

 

“Brighton.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Brighton. That’s where the co-ordinates lead.” Lexi looks up from the map resting on the dashboard in front of her, glancing ahead at the dark road, lit only by the headlights on the front of the truck.  
  
“How far away is that?” Varg asks casually.  
  
“Far.”  
  
“Hey, if I put my foot down now, I bet that we could make it by morning.”  
  
“I wouldn’t recommend that you try,” Lexi replies with a snort, but the snort is humourless. “Besides -”  
  
“Yes, I know.” Varg’s tone is suddenly blunt, so different from his relaxed features from a moment ago. Lexi is starting to regret ever bringing it up again - in fact, she’s starting to regret ever agreeing to leave university in the first place, but she quickly squashes that. Varg might not have been able to get out alive without her there. “You’re not coming.”  
  
“I have a lecture in the morning. Less than twelve hours away, and I still have that assignment to finish before then. I doubt I’m going to get any sleep tonight anyway - I’ve got to catch up on what I’ve missed.”  
  
“Whatever you say, sister.” Varg isn’t even looking at her now, but she can read the disappointment that he’s trying to hide. She wonders if she should try to say something else, make him feel better, but then he leans over, and turns up the AC/DC track currently playing, cutting off any opportunity for further conversation.  
  
They don’t speak again until the truck pulls up on the outskirts of campus, by the gates. They’re closed now, locked due to the late hour, but they don’t look difficult to climb over, so Lexi isn’t worried about being locked out all night and having to sleep on the pavement.  
  
“Give me a call when you find Father,” she says, just as she’s about to climb out of the passenger side.  
  
“I will,” Varg replies, but Lexi is pretty sure that he won’t.  
  
“Maybe I can meet up with you later?” She offers.  
  
“Yeah.” Varg still isn’t looking at her, and doesn’t look like he’s about to anytime soon; she gets out of the truck and lets the door swing shut behind her. It’s not until she’s jumped down onto the other side of the gates that Varg actually starts the engine, and pulls away from the kerb, driving off into the night. Lexi watches him go for a moment, wondering whether or not she’s just made the best decision of her life or the worst, before she shakes her head, stuffs her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, and starts the walk across campus. It feels different this time, though; she’s passed these buildings, these classrooms, the trees hundreds, maybe even thousands of times now, but tonight she’s on edge. Every shadow looks threatening, every dark shape - a bird, the leaves, a lone drunk student stumbling back from the bar - morphs into demons, or vampires, or vengeful spirits. This, she thinks, is why she never should have left. This is what hunting does to a person; it changes the way you see the world forever. She needs to be back amongst her usual surroundings, amongst her flatmates - Alicia, Adam, Meg - and their chatter over the breakfast table, and their late night jam sessions (they’ve been trying to get Lexi to play an instrument too, despite her telling them that she’s tone deaf when it comes to anything musical).  
  
Everything is dark and quiet when she lets herself into the flat, which comes as a surprise. It’s not too late into the evening; it’s very rare that any of her friends are in bed before midnight, especially Adam, who spends as little time sleeping as he possibly can.   
  
He’s probably just sitting in his room, Lexi reasons, moving to the kitchen unit in order to make herself a mug of coffee. Maybe she’ll join him before she makes a start on that assignment, just to let him know that she’s actually still alive.  
  
Something drops onto her forehead, once, twice. She reaches up to swipe it away; the substances stains her hand. Even in the dim light, she knows that the colour is red.  
  
And then the entire ceiling explodes.  
  
The impact knocks her backwards to the floor; her spine slams against the kitchen table, and she crumples as she hits the ground, letting out a whine from the painful sensation. The light from the flames is bright, but the thick black smoke joining it clouds her vision, making her unable to see barely anything when her brain has stopped rattling around in her skull. The hot air surrounding her clogs up her throat, making her cough and choke as she tries to call for some kind of help.  
  
“Lexi!” There’s a shout from somewhere in the hallway. It doesn’t sound like any of her flatmates, in the hazy part of her mind that’s still working, and not taken over by basic survival instinct. The sound of her name comes closer, as she tries to crawl towards the door, keeping low to avoid the smoke that threatening to overtake her lungs.  
  
“Lexi.” She’s suddenly out in the hallway, dragged roughly to her feet and out of the burning building, stumbling along, but safe in Varg’s arms. “Are you hurt? Are you alright?”  
  
“Where -” She descends into a coughing fit as she tries to speak, sucking in as much of the cold night air as she possibly can. By now, people are swarming towards the building - fire crews, concerned lecturers, students with hands clapped over their mouths.  
  
“Where are they?” She manages to say finally, as Varg sits her down on the grass, motioning for someone official - Lexi can’t see who exactly - to come over and give him a hand.   
  
“Where are who?”  
  
“Alicia, Adam, Meg - Where -?” She stops, catching the look on his face - guilty. “They’re -”

  
“I’m sorry.”

* * *

“Lexi. Say something.”  
  
“What do you want me to say?” Lexi’s tone is sharp, as she keeps her eyes on the ruined building, the rubble that she had, only hours before, called her home. The fire crews are still tending to it, but, from the size of the explosion and the fire, it’s already been made pretty clear that there are no survivors apart from herself. “Three people have just died, on the _ceiling_ \- Just like -” She stops, the words catching in her throat. “Just like Mother.” She sucks in a breath before Varg can comment. Now she knows what her father felt like all those years ago, when he watched their home burn down around them, and his wife and mother of his children perish. Alicia and the others may not have been her housemates for long, but they had all grown close in the past months. They are - _were_ \- like an extension of the family.  
  
She pushes herself off from the side of the truck, yanking the passenger door open.  
  
“Let’s go, Varg.”  
  
The comment takes him off-guard. “Go?”  
  
“Yes, _go_.” She sends him a hard look. “We’ve got work to do.”


	2. Part II

It’s slightly unnerving how easily Lexi slips back into the hunting lifestyle. Months of university life, of being on campus, of going to lectures and seminars, quickly fade away into the background, replaced by hours of endless driving along the winding British motorways, grotty fast food spots, and the scratchy sheets of cheap travel inns.   
  
Varg, however, has gone rather quiet throughout the whole thing. Neither of them have chosen to speak about what happened that night as they travel across the country in their beaten-up Ford truck, but it hangs in the air, like some dark raincloud over them. Sometimes she hears him tossing at night, as they huddle in their unheated, box-sized hotel room, muttering in his sleep, a permanent frown etched onto his face.  
  
“You know that we’re going to have to talk about this at some point, don’t you?” She says, about a mile out of Cardiff, on their way to investigate a strange death, in which a man ended up with his eyes clawed out. She had, at first, tried to convince Varg to simply entertain the idea that, maybe, it was just some freaky medical accident, but her brother had shaken his head and said, “Lexi, out of the twenty years that Father has been hunting, how many times has it been a freaky medical accident?”, and Lexi had to admit that he was right.  
  
“Talk about what?” Varg replies now, not taking his eyes off the road.  
  
“You know what. All these nightmares - it’s not healthy.”  
  
“That’s rich. Coming from you.”  
  
“Varg -”  
  
“We’re almost here,” he interrupts, effectively putting a swift end to the conversation.  
  
Of course, Lexi isn’t letting it go, no matter what’s going on with this particular case.  
  
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she says, at a break in the conversation, much later on, flicking through her notebook, the words _Bloody Mary_ scrawled in the middle of the otherwise blank page. “It might not be enough to smash the mirror.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, yes? She moves around from mirror to mirror; how do we know that she's not going to keep hiding in them forever?"  
  
"Maybe we should try to trap her, then," Varg muses. "Summon her to her mirror, and then smash it."  
  
"Who's going to summon her, though?"  
  
"I will."  
  
This makes Lexi start. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I'll do it," he repeats, eyes still on the road. "She'll come after me."  
  
"What does that mean?" Lexi demands, before narrowing her eyes shrewdly at him. Her brother, for all of his silences, is like an open book, one that anyone could read. "This is about me, isn't it?"  
  
"I don't -"  
  
"Yes, you do. You know exactly what I'm going to say. This is about what happened - you think that you coming to see me, our family secret, got those people killed somehow."  
  
" _Those people_ ," Varg repeats mockingly. "God, Lexi, you can't even refer to them by name. I think you're the one who's blaming yourself."  
  
"Of course I am! But don't pretend like you're not doing the exact same thing. I know you too well, Varg, I know when you're feeling guilty about something, and you're feeling guilty about something _now_. The nightmares, talking in your sleep - it's got to _stop_." She fixes him with a stern look. " _It. Wasn't. Your. Fault_. Okay? If you want to blame something, blame the creature that killed them. Or, even better, blame _me_ \- I'm the one who lived with them all that time and said nothing, who didn’t tell them about our family, and what could happen to them."  
  
"I don't blame you for what happened, Lexi."  
  
"Well you shouldn't blame yourself either, because there's nothing that you could have done.” Her voice is firm, absolute. “I could, at least, have warned them."

"You didn't know what was going to happen."  
  
"Neither did you! Besides, all of this isn't a secret, anyway. Mary only goes after people who had a secret that resulted in someone dying, and I know all about it. It's not gonna work with you."  
  
"No, you don't."  
  
"I don't?"  
  
"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything."  
  
"Okay. Tell me."  
  
Varg takes his eye off the road, only to smirk at her. "Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it, Lexi?"  
  
Lexi doesn’t look impressed. "No. I don't like it."  
  
"Sister, that girl, Eva - she is going to die. Who knows how many more people after that. Unless we do something. You've got to let me do this."

* * *

"I can’t believe that actually worked,” Lexi says afterwards, when the mirror has been smashed, and they’re back in the truck, bruised and bleeding, but both alive.

“I can’t believe that you punched a police officer,” Varg returns.  
  
“Touché.” There’s silence for a moment. “You know that we _are_ going to find Father, don’t you? Mary was lying when she crawled out of that mirror.”   
  
“Yes.” Varg gives her a half smile. “I know.”  
  
“Good.” She’s silent for a moment. “I want you to tell me what that secret is now. The one that Mary knew. What?” Varg is snickering. “What’s funny?”  
  
“Should have known that you wouldn’t let that go.” Her brother shakes his head. “Look, you’re my sister, Lexi, and you know that I would die for you.”  
  
“And I for you. But -”  
  
“ _But_ ,” Varg interrupts, “there are just some things that I want to keep to myself. That I _need_ to keep to myself.”  
  
“Didn’t think you were one for secrecy.”  
  
“No.” He shakes his head. “Neither did I.”

* * *

Of course, with the hunting lifestyle, not everything stays secret for long. Secrets can cost lives, after all, and both of them know this all too well. Lexi is not going to let this go, no matter what Varg says. She can’t ignore the niggling in her gut, the feeling that something is going on, and going on with Varg. It’s little things, really, but she’s been noticing; he’ll know where to find cases, down to the exact street in whatever town they’re coasting through, what victims or suspects to speak to, exactly when a surprise attack will come out of no where so that he can knock Lexi out of the way in time. Little things, but no one can be that prepared when it comes to hunting, and the suspicion is eating away at her, so much so that, finally, she snaps, one long night drive back up from Devon.

“I want to know.”  
  
“Know what?”  
  
“How you do it. And don’t try to act dumb, because I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. How do you know where all of these cases are, and how do you know exactly how to solve them when we haven’t actually worked out what creature is behind it?”  
  
“Hey -”  
  
“And how do you keep managing to save me?”  
  
“Maybe you’re just losing your touch.”  
  
“No, I’m not. But you’re _improving_ your touch; how are you doing that?”  
  
Varg looks hesitant for a moment, before sucking in a deep breath, sounding almost pained. “Okay, okay. You want to know so much? Fine. I have nightmares.”  
  
“Yes, I know -”  
  
“No, you don’t. I have nightmares, and, sometimes...” He trails off, sheepish, resting a few fingers against his temple. “Sometimes they come true.”  
  
Lexi blinks, absorbing it for a moment. “Excuse me? Is my hearing going, or did you just say _Sometimes they come true_?” Varg says nothing in reply. “Is this why you came back to get me at school? You knew that it was going to happen, that those people were going to die...You _did_ , didn’t you!?”  
  
“Lexi -”  
  
“No, Varg! How could you keep something like this a secret from me? Didn’t you think that this was something that I might want to know? You’re having freaky psychic visions about people _dying_ , for God’s sake -!”  
  
“ _Freaky psychic visions_ \- Really? After everything that we’ve seen, that we’ve been through, this is what you call freaky?”  
  
“That’s not important!”  
  
“Then what is important?”  
  
“You had no right to keep this from me!”  
  
“You see, this - this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! I knew you’d react like this; you think you have a right to know everything, simply because you don’t trust me.”  
  
“Don’t trust you?” She repeats, incredulous. “Don’t be stupid, Varg, of course I do. I’d die for you -”  
  
“There’s a difference between being willing to die for someone and trusting someone. I mean, just look at Father; both of us would die for him, but you never trusted him.”  
  
Lexi narrows her eyes. “This has nothing to do with Father!”  
  
“This has everything to do with Father!” Varg snaps in response. “This whole thing is to do with Father!”  
  
“Not everything in life revolves around Father, Varg! The sooner you learn that, the better!”  
  
“This is exactly what I’m talking about! You don’t trust me to make my own decisions because you think that I’m so blinded by loyalty that I’ll get myself killed!”  
  
“Can you blame me for thinking that? We both know that you’ll follow Father anywhere.”  
  
“You’re saying that because you don’t have any respect for him.”  
  
“Oh, I have plenty of respect for him - he just had no respect for me, because I wasn’t the good little soldier -”  
  
“Oh, please.” There’s a bitter tone to his words now. “Father loved you; you were his precious baby girl, the one who had to be sheltered and protected above everything else, because you reminded him of Mother -”  
  
“There you go again! Always bringing Mother into this too!”  
  
“Because she’s the reason this whole thing started!”  
  
“You make it sound like it’s her fault!”   
  
Varg sends her a withered glance. “Isn’t it?” Lexi slams a hand against the dashboard. “Hey - Don’t hurt her -!”  
  
“Stop the truck. I’m not doing this.”  
  
“Stop where? We’re in the middle of the road!”  
  
“Anywhere! I don’t care - I want to get out.”  
  
“Lexi -”  
  
“ _Varg._ ”  
  
Varg huffs, as if this whole argument is tedious and not worth his time. “This is a little bit childish.”  
  
“I don’t care. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m done.”  
  
“I’ll take off without you, then.” Lexi scoffs at the threat. Varg swerves the truck to the side of the road, cutting off the engine. “I’m not joking, I will leave you here - Lexi -!”  
  
She’s out of the vehicle before it even pulls to a complete stop, moving around to the back of the truck, in order to slide open the metal plate that covers the truck bed, reaching for her rucksack, all that’s left of her personal belongings.  
  
“You’re selfish, you know that?” Varg has thrown his door open, and is yelling from the driver’s seat. “A self-centred little brat. You think it all revolves around you.”  
  
Lexi hitches the strap of her rucksack higher up her shoulder. “If I’m so terrible, why did you come and get me at school, Varg? Hm? Why did you bother with me at all?”  
  
“Believe me, I’m regretting it.”  
  
“Yeah.” She turns on her heel, starting back up the road, the opposite way that the car had come. “That makes two of us.”

* * *

The next recognisable thing that Lexi sees is a bus stop. 

She’s been walking for a long time - hours, as the sun has now started to come up, painting the sky a shade of baby blue that oddly reminds her of the truck. It’s a lone bus stop, with one single occupant, huddled under the small shelter; a girl, maybe two years younger than her, dark hair hidden under a plum-coloured hoodie, headphones in her ears, swaying slightly in time to the song that’s playing. Lexi doesn’t want to interrupt her, but she doesn’t want to awkwardly sit in the bus stop in silence to think about the consequences of what she’s done, and so she taps the girl on the shoulder to get her attention. She jumps, but relaxes when she realises that Lexi is not of any real danger.  
  
“Uh, hey.”  
  
The girl removes one earphone, and raises an eyebrow at the sight of the new arrival. “Can I help you?”  
  
“Yeah, maybe. I was wondering when the next bus is.”  
  
The girl snorts. “You’ll be waiting a long time. Buses don’t stop here anymore.”  
  
“Oh.” Lexi’s shoulders slump. “Why are you waiting here, then?”  
  
“I’m hitchhiking,” the girl replies.  
  
“Right. You think I could join you?”  
  
“Hm. Perhaps.”  
  
“Perhaps?”  
  
“Well, I can’t just tell you where I’m heading, can I? You could be some kind of freak.”  
  
Lexi snorts, although nothing is really funny. “That sounds accurate.”  
  
The girl grins. “I like the sound of that.” She holds out a hand. “I’m Gemma. Gemma Raven.”  
  
“Lexi.”  
  
“So, then, Lexi -” Gemma pats the spot beside her, and Lexi takes a seat, sighing a little in relief as the weight is taken off of her aching feet. “Where are you heading?”  
  
The blonde raises an eyebrow. “What happened to _You could be some kind of freak_?”  
  
“I’ve decided that I like you. Therefore, trust is bestowed on you.”  
  
“I feel like I should feel honoured.”  
  
“You should.” They share a chuckle. “So, where are you heading at such an early hour?”  
  
“Um -” Lexi thinks. “I’m not sure. London, probably.”  
  
“Ah, me too. The big city is where it’s at.”  
  
“Amen to that.”  
  
They make small talk for the next ten minutes, odd snippets of a much larger conversation about why exactly the two of them are hitchhiking, and what they’re both trying to get to or away from. Which is actually quite nice, Lexi thinks; it’s been a while since she’s been able to have a conversation as a normal girl, first and foremost, not a hunter investigating a case.  
  
It doesn’t take long for a car to pull up beside them. It’s red, and not at all dangerous looking, not unlike the man who pokes his head out of the open window.  
  
“You kids need a lift?”  
  
“That depends,” Gemma replies, when Lexi says nothing, unsure of what exactly she should say. “Which way are you headed?”  
  
“Brixton way. Is that good enough?”  
  
Gemma exchanges a look with Lexi, who nods, before she turns back to the driver. “Sounds like it.”  
  
“Get in, then. Door’s open.”  
  
Gemma grins, grabbing one of Lexi’s hands and squeezing it, as if to ensure that her new-found friend won’t get left behind.  
  
“You’re trusting this strange, lift-offering guy instantly, and not me?” Lexi teases, rolling her eyes. “Wow. I feel hurt.”

* * *

“So, what’s the deal?” Gemma asks suddenly, at a lull in the conversation. Despite Lexi’s initial wariness, the strange driver had done as he had promised, and delivered them to Brixton in one piece; it didn’t take them very long to find a cheap fast food place where they could afford something to eat, Lexi paying for Gemma’s meal with complete insistence. She likes the girl, after all, despite not knowing her for very long.

“What do you mean?” She replies now, dunking another chip into the pool of ketchup on her plate, and taking a bite.  
  
“Are you on holiday or something? Is that why you’re trying to hitchhike?”  
  
Lexi laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, I wish. No, I just had to get away from family for a little bit. My brother and I - well, some personal stuff happened, a few months ago, and we’ve been road tripping together ever since. It just hasn’t been working out, though, so I felt like I needed to go my own way for a little while.”  
  
“I hear you there.” Gemma drains the last of her milkshake. “I love my Mum, more than anything, and all she wanted was what’s best for me. She just didn’t care if _I_ wanted it. I was supposed to be smart. But not smart enough to scare away a husband. It’s like, just because she said so, I was supposed to sit there and do what I was told. So, I just went on my own way instead, like you.” She shakes her head, almost looking a little sad. “I don’t know. The things you say to people you hardly know, eh?”  
  
“Tell me about it.”  
  
“Perhaps it’s the best way to be, though.” She raises her empty cup, and taps it gently against Lexi’s. “Here’s to us. The food might be bad, and the beds might be hard, but at least we’re living our own lives. Nobody else’s.”  
  
“Yes,” Lexi agrees, a smile on her face. “Here’s to us.”

* * *

They’re settling in for the night in the nearby bus station, on the bathroom floor, when Varg calls.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” Lexi says, keeping her voice down in order to avoid waking Gemma, who’s using her rucksack as a pillow.  
  
“Yeah, well, Acton is proving to be more exciting than I originally thought,” Varg replies grimly. “Looks like even when we’re not looking, the cases find us.”  
  
“We’re hunters, Varg. It kind of goes with the territory. What kind of case is it?”  
  
“If I said the words “ _Killer scarecrow_ ”, would you believe me?”  
  
“Not really.” Lexi snorts, before shaking her head. “But then it’s a bit late to start picking what to believe in. So, something’s animating a scarecrow to kill people, right? Why?”  
  
“I’m not completely sure. It appears to be some kind of ritual sacrifice. It’s always virgins, and it’s always around this time of year. I’m thinking one of the pagan gods.”  
  
“That makes sense,” Lexi agrees. “But now you have to find a way to stop it before it takes anybody else.”  
  
“My thoughts exactly. I’m visiting a local university in the morning to talk to one of the professionals there - you know, since I now no longer have my geeky sidekick to help me out.”  
  
Lexi can’t stop a chuckle escaping at that. “You know, if the purpose of this phone call was to hint that you needed my help, you could have just asked me in the first place.”  
  
“I’m not hinting at anything, sister. I’m not the hinting type.” Varg pauses, suddenly rather hesitant, something that doesn’t happen very often. “Anyway, I, er, I wanted to tell you that I - you know, I don’t want you to think that I -”  
  
“I know. I’m sorry about what I said too.”  
  
“No, Lexi, that’s the thing. I’m the one that needs to apologise; you were right, you know.”  
  
“I was?”  
  
“It wasn’t Mother’s fault what happened to her. It was nobody’s fault except the thing that killed her. And you shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself, because of what happened, or come back to hunting because you feel...I don’t know, guilty, or something. You have to live your own life. Lexi, I’ve been thinking about this a lot in the past few hours; you’ve always been the one that knows what you want, and how to go after it. You don't let anything get in your way. You stand up to Father, you always have. I only wish that I could have - ...Well, anyway, I, um, I admire that about you. I’m proud of you.”  
  
Lexi is silent for a while. “I really don’t know how to respond to that.”  
  
“Tell me that you’re going to keep yourself safe, wherever it is that you’re going.”  
  
“I will. You know I will.” She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. “Will you call, when you find Father?”  
  
“Of course.” There’s sadness in Varg’s voice, an emotion that is rarely displayed. “Goodbye, Lexi.”  
  
“Bye.” She hangs up, and simply stares at the screen, unsure of what exactly she should do now, until Gemma stirs beside her, lifting her head from the makeshift pillow. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”  
  
“Only a little bit.” The other girl stifles a yawn. “I wasn’t sleeping much, anyway. Who were you talking to?”  
  
“My brother.”  
  
“Oh?” Despite her sleepiness, Gemma still finds it in her to raise an eyebrow. “What did he have to say?”  
  
“He called to say goodbye.”

* * *

“Our bus is here.”

“Hm?” Lexi looks up from the screen of her phone. Gemma is patiently waiting, luggage slung over her shoulder, inclining her head towards the bus that has just pulled up outside, the one that’s heading into the central part of London, that will take her on to the second fresh start she’s had this year.   
  
This is it, isn’t it? Her _second_ second chance, another opportunity to get out of hunting for good, possibly her last opportunity. Varg has even given her his best wishes this time.  
  
Varg, who still hasn’t picked up his phone.  
  
"You better hurry up and catch it,” Lexi says, before she even really knows that the words are out of her mouth. Maybe she’s really been thinking them all along. “I have to go."  
  
"Go?" Gemma repeats, a frown creasing her features. "Go where?"  
  
"Acton. I’ve been trying to call my brother for the last three hours. I’m just getting his voicemail."  
  
"Well, maybe his phone’s turned off."  
  
"No.” Lexi shakes her head. “That’s not like him. I think he might be in trouble."  
  
"What kind of trouble?"  
  
"The serious kind. I can’t really explain it all right now, it’s a very long story. I’m sorry. Look, I don’t want you to miss your bus -"  
  
"But I don’t understand,” Gemma interrupts, concern splashed across her face. “You’re running back to your brother? The guy you ran _away_ from? Why, because he won’t pick up his phone? Lexi - come with me. We’re living for ourselves, aren’t we?"  
  
"We are. But I can’t, not right now. I’m so sorry."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"He’s my family. I’m all he’s got." She pulls the other girl into a tight hug. "Good luck. Take care of yourself, Gemma."  
  
"Yeah.” Gemma sounds a little tearful, and Lexi would be lying if she denied the burning behind her eyelids too. “As long as you do the same."

* * *

For as long as she continues to live, however short that might be, Lexi will never forget to be grateful about how useless Varg is at turning off his own GPS.

The warehouse in Acton isn’t far from the main road, and, as Lexi swerves into the desolate car park, she briefly wonders, in a blind moment of panic, whether or not this is actually correct, or if Varg had just dropped his phone on a whim, for the building doesn’t look like it has seen life for at least fifteen years. The paint is peeling off, and all of the windows have been smashed. At first, it doesn’t look like there’s even a door to get inside, and Lexi has to climb in through one of the broken windows, gaining a painful cut on her hand, before she even notices the secret side entrance.  
  
Inside is just as decrepit as the outside, machinery left to rust everywhere that she can see, footprints and track marks running through the thick layer of dirt that covers the ground. Whoever has come here has done a good job of making sure that, on a glance, the outside looks untouched. Nothing good can be going on. Thank goodness she decided to bring the weapon that she usually tucked into the back of her jeans. She doesn’t like carrying it on her, but, in this job, one can never be too prepared.  
  
She checks her phone again; the signal is weak, but it’s there, at least. She follows the trace, towards the back of the factory, and what appears to be some kind of old store cupboard.  
  
She tries the door handle when she reaches it. Locked, of course. She knocks once, lightly, not loud enough to summon any unwanted attention from whatever else could be here.  
  
“Varg?”  
  
“Sister?” The response comes from inside; Lexi sighs with relief.  
  
“Yes! It’s me.”  
  
"Oh!" Varg sounds as overjoyed as she does. "I take back everything that I said, Lexi. You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice."  
  
"Same here.” She shoves the door again. “The door won't budge. I've got to pick the lock, hold on." Lexi reaches into her pocket for a nail file; she remembers being fourteen, and Varg teaching her how to use them to break into places she wasn't supposed to be.  
  
"How did you get here?"  
  
"I, uh - I stole a car."  
  
Varg laughs loudly. "I knew you had it in you Lexi!"  
  
"Keep an eye on the scarecrow!" Someone else yells from inside. "He could come alive at any minute!"  
  
"Who's that?"  
  
"Oh, this is Bisme. She's my new sidekick - you know, since you left me out of the blue."  
  
"Replacing me already, I see, brother." Lexi smirks to accompany her teasing tone, just as the lock clicks and gives way, the door swinging open. Varg and the young girl - Bisme, she assumes - are slumped on the ground, tied together, back to back.  
  
"I always knew you would turn up eventually, sister," Varg says, rather smug for someone in his position. "You just couldn't stay away."  
  
"I can always leave you like this, Varg." Lexi rolls her eyes, but does move to untie her brother and Bisme. She smiles at the young girl. "Hi. I'm Lexi."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Bisme nods towards Varg. "He hasn't stopped going on about you."  
  
Varg pulls a face, sheepish. "Hey, now -"  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Lexi grins. "Seems like I'm not the only one who couldn't stay away, eh?"  
  
"Shut up." Varg, rather childishly, sticks his tongue out. "Now, come on. We've got to get out, so that we can set the factory alight."  
  
"Why?" Bisme asks.  
  
"The factory is the source of the scarecrow's power," Lexi explains, cutting in before Varg can cut in with something impatient and snappy. "By destroying this, we can make sure that he never takes anyone ever again."  
  
"But -" The girl frowns, struggling a little to keep pace with the running speed of the two siblings. "If what your brother was saying is true, and this is some kind of ritual, wouldn't that mean that the town gets cursed?"  
  
"That's the decision we've got to make." Lexi almost stops entirely, but catches herself. They can't afford to stop; the scarecrow will almost certainly catch up with them if they do. "It's not an easy one, but we can save a lot of lives if we make the right choice."  
  
"Can we have the heart-to-heart later?" Varg huffs. "I'd rather like to not get eaten today, if that's alright with the two of you."

* * *

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes. We did,” Varg replies firmly, nodding over Bisme’s shoulder, to where the rest of the Jacana family are standing, waiting for other passengers to file off the bus that will take them out of Acton, similar to the one Lexi nearly took, hours before. “What’s going to happen to the town is a punishment that you don’t deserve.”  
  
The young girl smiles at him. “Thanks. You know, you’re not as bad as you make people believe.”  
  
Lexi snorts, as Varg blinks, rather unsure of how to take that comment. “Er, thank you. I think.”  
  
The two siblings hang around long enough to wave the Jacana family off, before heading back towards the truck.  
  
“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Lexi asks, breaking the unusual silence over the two of them.  
  
“I should think so,” Varg replies. “I hope so, anyway.” He clears his throat, a segue into an awkward or uncomfortable topic of conversation. "So, is there anywhere in particular I can drop you off? I doubt that you very much want to stay here."  
  
"No, thanks. Actually, I think you’re stuck with me."  
  
"Really?" Varg looks pleased to hear this. "What made you change your mind?"  
  
"I didn’t. Well, not really. I still want to find Father, and I still want to have my own life, and you’re still, and always will be, a pain. But, the people we relied on - Alicia, Adam, Meg, Mother - they’re all gone. Father is God knows where. You and me, we’re all that’s left. So, if we’re going to see this through, we’re going do it together."  
  
"Wow." Varg rolls his eyes, using sarcasm to hide how he's really feeling, even though he knows that she can see right through him. "Why don't you just hold me now, Lexi. That was beautiful."  
  
Lexi simply grins in response. "You should be praying for forgiveness, brother. You would have been dead back there, if it wasn't for me."  
  
"Me?" Varg scoffs. "Never. I had a plan, I would have gotten out."  
  
"Of _course_ you would. Whatever you say."

* * *

They head east a little while after the Acton case, driving up towards the county of Norfolk.

“I need to get away from London cases,” Varg says, as they sail towards the promise of the countryside and the fresh air. “Werewolves, pagan gods, curses? I think we need something new.”  
  
“Can’t we just get away from cases, full stop?” Lexi asks, barely looking up from the map resting across her knees.  
  
Varg snorts. “When has that _ever_ worked for us?”  
  
“True.”  
  
They stop off at the first pub that they come across, in search of a boost of energy in the form of snack foods and alcohol. Lexi reads the paper that someone has left strewn across the bar, and is about to point something out to Varg, a curious article she had found in the obituary column, when something on the other side of the pub catches her eye - a familiar head of dark hair, partially hidden under a purple hoodie.  
  
She’s out of her seat and across the room before Varg can ask her what she’s looking at. "Gemma?"  
  
"Lexi! Is that really you?" Gemma stands up, pulling Lexi into a hug. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I’m just passing through, visiting a couple of people,” Lexi lies quickly, before smiling again. “What about you, Gemma? I thought you were going to London."  
  
"Oh, I was, and I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. But it got old really fast, so I’m living here for a while."  
  
"Really?” Lexi slides into the spare seat next to her. “Are you from the area, then?"  
  
"No, Brighton. But I'm a free spirit, Lex, you know that. Gosh, what are the odds that we’d run into each other?"  
  
"I know; I thought I’d never see you again."  
  
"Well, I’m glad you were wrong." She glances to Varg, who's wandered over to see what on earth is going on, simply watching the interaction looking mildly confused. She raises an eyebrow. “Who’s this?”  
  
"Oh, right. Gemma, this is, uh—this is my brother, Varg."  
  
Gemma looks surprised. "This is your brother?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Varg glances between the two women. "You’ve heard of me?"  
  
"Oh, yeah.” Gemma’s expression darkens. “I’ve heard of you. Nice - the way you treat your sister like luggage."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Why don’t you let her do what she wants? Stop dragging her over God’s green earth."~  
  
"Gemma, it’s all right." Lexi steps in quickly, before Varg can retort. "We talked it all over. We're good now."  
  
Gemma pauses for a moment, simply watching the two of them, before relaxing."Okay. If you're sure. It’s just—the way you told me he treats you..."  
  
"It’s all right. He means well." Varg's pulling a face behind her, an indignant face at that, but she ignores it. "Can I buy you a drink?"  
  
"Actually, you caught me just as I was about to leave." Gemma gives her an apologetic smile. "But, you know, we should hang out whilst you're here. This is my number." She digs into the pocket of her coat and pulls out a slip of card, a mobile number scribbled on the back. "I’ll show you a hell of a time."  
  
"You know what, that sounds great." Lexi beams at her. "Thanks, Gemma."  
  
"Anytime." Gemma rises from her seat, giving Lexi another quick hug, before she turns to walk away. "I hope to see you around, Lex."  
  
"Lex?" Varg repeats, once she's out of earshot. "Who the heck was she?"  
  
"I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know; it’s weird."  
  
"And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage, do I? Do you complain about me to everybody that you meet?"  
  
Lexi sighs. "Look, I’m sorry about that. It was when we were arguing, and I was still angry at you. But that’s not important -"  
  
"Oh no, I think it's rather important. Is there any truth to what she’s saying, sister? Am I keeping you against your will?"  
  
"No, of course not. I told you, I want to be here. Now, would you listen?"  
  
"I'm all ears."  
  
"I think there’s something strange going on here. Our kind of strange."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I met Gemma about two weeks ago, on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Norfolk pub? The same pub where a waitress was slaughtered by something that was most likely supernatural?"  
  
"What?" Varg blinks. "Where did you get that from?"  
  
"Did you not see the paper at the bar? A waitress there died two days ago. You don’t think this is a little bit of a weird coincidence?"  
  
"Random coincidences happen."  
  
"Yes, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, Varg; I’m just saying that there’s something about this whole thing that I can’t quite put my finger on." Varg snickers suddenly, making her frown. "What? What's so funny?"  
  
"Have you ever considered that, maybe, she’s not a suspect? Maybe you’ve got a little bit of a _thing_ for her?"  
  
" _Varg._ " Lexi gives him a playful shove. "Now is not the time to get into all that."  
  
"I'm just saying. I wouldn't mind, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
"I know. But it's not like that. Gemma is my friend, but there's still something off about all of this."  
  
"Well, if you're so worried about it, why don't we go after her?"  
  
"What do you mean? She's not exactly going to admit if there's something going on, is she?"  
  
"Obviously not." Varg sends her a deadpan expression to match his monotonous tone. "I was suggesting something far more subtle."

* * *

“What time is it?” Lexi cracks an eye open, glancing in Varg’s direction. “We must have been here for hours now.”

“Uh -” Varg checks. “It’s about eleven o’clock.”  
  
“Great.” Lexi shifts in her seat, trying to stretch out the cramp in her legs. “How long are we going to sit here?”  
  
Varg inclines his head towards the high-rise block of flats, the place that they had followed Gemma to after their time in the pub. “Until she does something.”  
  
“That could be hours yet!”  
  
“Hey -” Varg turns to pull a face at her. “This was _your_ venture, remember? Not mine. You were so insistent that something was going on.”  
  
“I said that I could be wrong.”  
  
“It’s too late for that now.”  
  
“Hm.” Lexi leans her head back against the seat, eyes closed once more. “Varg, are you nervous?” She says, after a long moment.  
  
“I’m never nervous.”  
  
“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”  
  
“Touché. Nervous about what?”  
  
"If we actually find the thing that killed Mother?"  
  
"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we, Lexi? You said that this was only a bad feeling."  
  
"I know. I’m just speculating, about if we did. What if this whole thing was suddenly over, just like that?"  
  
"That's a nice thought, I will admit."  
  
"I’d sleep for a month. Maybe go back to school - be a person again."  
  
"You want to go back to school?"  
  
"At some point, once we’ve finished hunting. Why?" Varg hasn't commented. "Is there something wrong with that?"  
  
"Of course not," Varg replies, but he doesn't sound convincing.  
  
"What are you going do when it’s all over?"  
  
"It’s never going to be _over_ , sister. There will be others. There’s always going be something to hunt; evil isn't going away."  
  
"That's not what I mean, Varg. There’s got to be something that you want for yourself -"  
  
"Of course there is. I don’t want you to leave the second this is over. Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Why do you think I came and got you in the first place?"  
  
"Because Father was in trouble."  
  
"Yes, but it’s more than that. You, me, Father - I want us to be a family again."  
  
"We are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before."  
  
"It could be."  
  
"To be honest, I don’t want them to be. I don't want to live this life forever. When this is all over, we’re going to have to let each other go our own ways."  
  
“You sound like Gemma. Are you positive you don’t have even a small thing for her?”  
  
“Stop trying to romanticise everything. I know you can’t help it, being the big softie that you are -”  
  
“I’ll remind you of that the next time we track down a vampire nest.” Varg glances out of the wind-shied again, only to sit up, posture suddenly tense. “Look.”  
  
“What?” Lexi sits up too. Gemma, still dressed, a long purple coat wrapped around her, has left the block of flats, and is now crossing the street, walking at a brisk pace towards a narrow alleyway on the other side of the road. “Where do you think she’s going?”  
  
“I don’t know. All the more reason to find out, don’t you think?” Varg unlocks his door, and climbs out, Lexi following him with a torch in her hand.  
  
It isn’t long before Gemma arrives at her intended destination. It’s an old warehouse, by the looks of things, one that hasn’t been used in years. Gemma doesn’t really seem bothered about that, however; she merely walks up to the door and yanks it open, casually letting herself in.  
  
Varg, crouching by the street corner, looks up at his sister. “Any ideas?”  
  
Lexi pulls a face. “How should I know?”  
  
“You’re the one who’s friendly with her, not me.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean anything. I met her by the side of the road.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean anything. We’ve formed alliances based off less than that.” Varg does a second-long sweep of the surrounding area, before nodding. “Let’s see what’s going on in there.”  
  
“Can’t be anything good.”  
  
“When has the word good ever applied to situations like this, Lexi? Even hunting that ghost in the chocolate factory wasn’t good.”  
  
“Oh, yes, I remember that.” Lexi is unable to keep the smirk off her face as they make their way towards the building, still on the look out for any other signs of life. “You fell in the chocolate lake, and Father had to fish you out.”  
  
“Not my finest moment, I’ll agree.”  
  
“That’s a little bit of an understatement.”  
  
Inside is just as grim as Lexi had been expecting. She wrinkles her nose when she first sees the sight.  
  
“Why am I always skulking about in disused factory units and warehouses recently?”  
  
Varg nods towards a small flight of steps, leading up towards another door, a silent indication to move closer.“Maybe it’s the universe trying to tell you something.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“Such as that a mundane existence working in places like this is repetitive and boring, and therefore dangerous for your mental health.”  
  
“Shut up.” Lexi jostles him with her elbow, trying the door. “Locked.”  
  
“Expecting anything different?”  
  
“Perhaps it would be nice if things were easy, for once.” She taps her fingers lightly against the door, thinking. “Is there any way to wedge it open?”  
  
“No -” Varg puts a hand on her shoulder to manoeuvre her gaze to her right. A broken down old-fashioned lift is situated a few feet away, the shaft large enough for a person to climb up. “- but there is a more efficient way.”  
  
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.” Lexi shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “You’re the real genius, Varg.”  
  
“I know. It’s nice to hear you say it out loud, though.”  
  
“Yes, well, don’t get too egotistical; there is only so much I can take.” Lexi pockets her torch in her jacket, edging her way through the narrow bars, using them as footholds to start climbing up the wall.  
  
“Wait - why do you get to climb up?”  
  
“Because you’re the genius, Varg, and I’m the legwork.” She pauses, before grinning. “Besides, I’m also the skinnier one.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Varg makes a grab at her through the bars, but she’s too high up now, and he misses by an inch. Lexi keeps climbing, ignoring the way that the rough brick scrapes her hands and fingers, until she comes to the next floor up, using the metal bars covering what had once been this lift entrance to secure her weight.  
  
"...don’t think you should come," Gemma is saying, addressing someone that Lexi can't see. She's leaning over some kind of altar, as if that is what she's talking to. "They’re here; I didn’t know that...Yes, sir...Yes, I’ll be here—waiting for you."  
  
"What's going on?" Varg hisses from a few feet below her. Lexi waves a hand to silence him, but that doesn't appear to be a good enough response. In less than a minute, he's scaled the wall too, and peering out at Gemma.   
  
"So." He keeps his voice low. "Little Gemma is summoning something, huh?"  
  
"We don't know that."  
  
"You’ve got eyes, haven’t you? Use them.”  
  
"Guys.” The sudden sound of Gemma’s voice cuts of Lexi’s response. “Hiding is a little bit childish, don’t you think?" She turns around, eyes focusing in on their hiding place. "Why don’t you come and join me?"  
  
Lexi exchanges a glance with Varg, before she slips through the gap in the bottom of the barrier, up on her feet a moment later.  
  
Gemma regards her with a raised eyebrow, taking a few steps towards her. "Lex, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our friendship."  
  
"I could say the same.” She lets her fingers brush against her pocket, reassurance that she’s armed and can defend herself, if she needs to. “Where’s your friend? The one that you were just talking to?"  
  
"Around. Your guns aren't going to do you much good."  
  
"Don’t worry," Varg says. He's joined them in the room too, by this point, weapon already in hand and pointing at Gemma. "The gun isn't for your friend."  
  
"Why are you here?" Lexi asks, sending Varg a look in order to quieten him. "Who are you waiting for?"  
  
"Isn’t it obvious? You."   
  
Lexi doesn't get an opportunity to ask what she means, before she finds herself being thrown to the ground, just as Varg is flung across the room, and something, something that she can't see, claws at her, creating a deep scratch across her cheek. She sits up, a little dizzy, pressing the sleeve of her shirt against the cut and wincing, as Gemma moves closer, crouching down so that she is face to face with the blonde.  
  
"This, the whole thing, was a trap, wasn't it?" Lexi says. "Running into you at the bar, following you here. It was all a set-up, wasn’t it?"  
  
Gemma smirks, and then shrugs, rather casually. "You got me."  
  
"And the waitress? The one who got murdered? Is that just a coincidence?"  
  
"Sadly for her, no." Again, Gemma shrugs, unaffected by the whole thing. "It doesn’t mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that’s all."  
  
"You killed that girl for nothing?"  
  
"I’ve killed a lot more for a lot less."  
  
"That's disgusting." Varg's voice echoes from the corner; he's pulled himself to his feet, but he sounds winded, something that doesn't escape Gemma's attention either, going by the amount of amusement in her expression.  
  
"I really don't think you're in any position to be judging me."  
  
"I don't understand," Lexi interrupts, bringing Gemma's gaze - once kind and teasing, now cruel - back to her. "Why don’t you kill us already?"  
  
"Not very quick on the uptake, are we, Lex? This trap isn’t for you. It was never for you."  
  
"But, you just said..."

"Father. It’s a trap for Father." Varg, despite his injuries, snorts loudly. "You’re more stupid that Lexi looks, Gemma."

" _Wow_. Thank you, Varg."

Her brother ignores her. "Even if our father was in town, which he is not, he wouldn’t walk into something like this. He’s too good."

Gemma tilts her head, as if considering his words. "He is pretty good. I’ll give you that. But you see, like everyone, he has a weakness."

"What’s that?"

"You. He lets his guard down around his children, lets his emotions cloud his judgement. And I happen to know he _is_ in town. He’ll come and try to save you, and then we'll catch him."

"Why are you doing this? What kind of deal have you got - and with who?"

"I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do, Lexi - loyalty. Love." Her face twists, taking on a mocking expression. "Like the love you had for poor Mummy."

She waves her hand suddenly, as if greeting someone on the other side of the room; a mere second later, Lexi hears something clattering to the floor, and, when she glances at it, she sees that it's one of the weapons from the truck, one that Varg must have grabbed without her noticing.

"I'm a little disappointed, actually - Was that _really_ your great idea?" Gemma turns her fixation solely onto Varg for a moment - what he wanted all along, Lexi realises, using the opportunity of distraction to grab the other girl's shoulders and headbutt her, knocking her to the floor. She's still a little wobbly as she staggers across the room to the altar, using her disorientation to blindly overturn it.

She doesn’t have to wait long for something to happen; all of a sudden, Gemma is yanked into the air, her feet dangling above the ground, almost as if she’s being strangled by something. Black smoke pours from her mouth, the demon essence, escaping just as the body is sent flying, sailing through one of the intact windows, shattering it on impact. Lexi has to look away at that, instead resting a hand against her forehead, as if this on its own could eradicate the pain.

“Are you okay?” Varg has taken a few steps towards her, looking more comfortable now.

“I don’t know,” she replies truthfully.

* * *

“I can’t believe we missed a chance to get her for good.”

“There’s no point in worrying about it now, sister,” Varg replies, holding the door open for her, as they walk the last of the three flights that they have to take in order to reach their hotel room. “You did what you could.”

“But she’s still out there, isn’t she? She’s going to try and come back, finish what she started.”

“I thought she was your friend.”

“She was. But it was all a trap, wasn’t it? Even meeting me by the roadside in the first place; I’m willing to be that was a set up as well.” Lexi lets out a heavy sigh. "My life was so simple at one time, you know? Just school, exams, papers on cultural norms in relation to literature, and that was it. "

"So I saved you from a boring existence, is what you're saying."

"Believe it or not, occasionally I miss boring."

"You're right. I don't believe you." Varg smirks, and they share a chuckle, as he pushes the door to the room open. "But, the demon, Gemma -"

"God, I miss conversations that didn't start with ' _the demon, Gemma'_." Lexi starts to laugh again, but her laughter is suddenly cut short. There’s someone else in their room, waiting for them, but it isn’t Gemma, despite everything.

“Father?”


	3. Part III

No one in the room speaks for a couple of minutes.  
  
“Father,” Lexi says again, a confirmation this time, not a question.  
  
“Hello, Lexi.” The man in front of her has his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, flashing her an awkward ghost of a smile. Certainly not the reaction she had been expecting from her father. His blue gaze shifts to Varg. “Varg.” He wastes no time pulling his son into a hug; it doesn’t surprise her that his son is the child he gravitates to, but Lexi still has to suppress the eye roll she can feel approaching at the sight. She’s happy for Varg, though. Varg has a loyalty to their father that she will never understand.  
  
“It was a trap,” her brother is saying, muffled by their father’s shoulder, showing vulnerability he never usually would. “I didn’t know. I apologise -”  
  
“I know. I thought it might have been.”  
  
Lexi raises an eyebrow. “Were you _there_?”  
  
“Yes. I got there just in time to see the girl sail through the window.” Their father glances between them. “What happened to the demon?”  
  
“We don’t know,” Varg admits. “Things got a little hectic; the demon managed to throw herself off a seven story building before we could do anything else.”  
  
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. The demons - all of them - know I’m close to finding it. They know I’m coming.”  
  
“ _It_? The thing that...you know, Mother?”  
  
“Correct. It knows I’m going to kill it. Not just exorcise it, but get rid of it for good.”  
  
“Is that why you took off?”  
  
“As soon as I knew I had a lead, I knew that I could do it, put an end to all of this.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“I have a few things that I’m working on.”  
  
“Well, that’s descriptive,” Lexi comments dryly. Varg glares at her, but their father, surprisingly, doesn’t say anything about her tone of voice.  
  
“I’m sorry, Lexi. It’s for your own good. If anything happens to the two of you, if the demons get their hands on you, you’ll know as little as possible.”  
  
“And then whatever’s got us will kill us even faster when they realise that we’re of no real use to them.”  
  
“Let us help you,” Varg adds, to which their father lays a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“No, son.”  
  
“But -”  
  
“No. This fight is only just starting - I don’t want you...either of you -” He glances to Lexi, before back to his son “- caught in the crossfire.”  
  
“You don’t have to worry about us.”  
  
“Yes, I do. I’m your father.” There’s a pause. “Listen, Lexi - when we last saw each other, well, we had some choice words to say to each other.”  
  
“You could say that.”  
  
“I especially know that I said things to you that I regret. That I’ve regretted for a long time.” He reaches out, as if to go in for a hug, before thinking better of it and squeezing her shoulder. "It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time."  
  
Lexi sighs heavily. "Yes. Too long." She flashes her father a smile, but she can't help but narrow her eyes slightly as their gazes meet. There's just something not quite right about this situation. She can't put her finger on what, though, but her hunting instincts are telling her that something is off.  
  
"I'm sorry," she says, after a moment.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Gemma. Or, Demon Gemma, anyway. She got away, didn't she?"  
  
"Don't apologise. You were good in there."  
  
This makes Lexi narrow her eyes even more. "You’re not...angry?"  
  
"For what?"  
  
"I let her get away."  
  
"Angry? I’m proud of you. Varg and I, we worried before you left, that you wouldn't be able to take care of yourself. But you did – you looked out for this family."  
  
"Thank you." Lexi blinks. "I think." At the questioning looks, she elaborates. "You'll have to forgive me for being suspicious. Last time we spoke, you weren't exactly kind."  
  
"That was the past," Varg says, looking between the both of them. "We're all together now, and we're going to take on this thing as a family, right?"  
  
"Right," their father echoes, before looking back to his daughter. "Lexi?"  
  
 _Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong._  
  
"No."  
  
Varg stares at her, incredulous. "No?"  
  
"No," she repeats. "Because I've worked out what it is."  
  
"What what is?"  
  
"I've felt like something was wrong, ever since we got here. But I've realised it now." She looks to her brother. "He’d be furious."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That I wasted a chance to get rid of Gemma. He wouldn’t be proud of me, Varg; he’d tear me a new one." She reaches into the waistband of her jeans, pulling out the gun she's   
kept hidden there ever since the case of Elisabeth Hatcher, the case that dragged her back into hunting. "We know our father better than anyone. And you're not him."  
  
"What's gotten into you?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
  
"Lexi?" Varg interrupts the confrontation.  
  
"I think he’s possessed, Varg. I think he’s been possessed ever since he got here."  
  
"Don’t listen to her, son."  
  
Varg ignores him. "How can you tell?"  
  
"Because I just can. He’s...he’s different."  
  
"We don’t have time for this. Varg, if we want to end this, we have to trust each other."  
  
Varg looks back and forth between the two for a long moment, Lexi waiting for the seemingly inevitable outcome, for him to choose their father; he only shakes his head, before he moves to stand beside her.  
  
Their father looks just as surprised as she is, before rolling his eyes, relaxed for someone who has a weapon pointed at them. He’s an old hand at this, just like they are.  
  
"Fine. If the two of you are so sure, go ahead. Kill me." When Lexi does nothing, unable to make herself, he nods. "I thought so."  
  
A mere second later, the gun is flung out of Lexi's hands, sailing across the room and smacking against the wall. Lexi's eyes follow it, before looking back towards her father.   
He's smirking, eyes glowing red.  
  
"What a pain the two of you have been," he says, before carelessly waving a hand. Lexi sails backwards, knocked off her feet, her head colliding with the wall, just like the gun; she can see stars in her vision as she sinks to the floor.  
  
"It’s you, isn’t it?" She hears Varg say through the ringing in her ears. "We’ve been looking for you for a long time.  
  
"Well, aren't you two lucky? You found me." The... _thing_...snorts. "You think something like your guns work on something like me? They're playthings."   
  
Something else crashes, something Lexi can't comprehend.  
  
"I’m going to _kill_ you!" Varg says, the words sliding through gritted teeth.  
  
"Oh, wouldn't that be fun?" The creature's tone sounds mocking. Lexi attempts to struggle to her feet, blinking rapidly to clear her sight. Varg is pinned against the wall by an invisible force, the demon stood in front of him. "I could’ve killed you _both_ a hundred times over in the past few minutes, but this...this is worth the wait." He flings his hand towards her slightly; she feels herself being pushed backwards, and her head makes contact with the wall again.  
  
"He’s in here with me, you know. Daddy. He says “hi”, by the way. He’s going to get to watch as I tear the both of you apart."  
  
Varg glares through the pain splashed across his face. "Let him go, or –”  
  
"What? What are you going to do, psychic boy? You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little demon problem of yours? That was my daughter."  
  
"Who -" Lexi manages to say; her voice sounds too far away to belong to her. " _Gemma_?"  
  
"You’ve got to be joking," Varg comments at the same time.  
  
"What? You two think you're the only ones that can have a _family_? You destroyed my child. How would you feel if I killed _your_ precious family? Oh, that’s right. I forgot." He flashes a smile at both of them. "I already have."  
  
"Why?" Varg demands. "Why did you do it?"  
  
"You mean why did I kill precious Mummy and all of those snotty kids?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Adam, and Meg, and pretty little Alicia...You want to know why? Because they got in the way."  
  
" _In the way?_ In the way of _what_?"  
  
"My plans for you, Varg. You, and all the children like you."  
  
"Would you just get on with it?" Lexi says; it's meant to be a shout, but she's pretty sure that she's whispering. The demon hears her anyway, going by the attention of its red   
eyes on her. "I really can’t stand monologuing."  
  
"That's funny, Lexi. I'm going to kill you whilst your brother has to watch, but that was funny. All part of your charm, though, I think, the humour. Masking all of that nasty pain, masking the truth."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"You fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don’t need you. Not like you've always needed them, no matter how many universities you apply to in order to get away from them. Varg – he’s clearly the favourite. Even when Daddy and he are fighting, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you." He smiles at her, but the expression is not comforting, and has no intention of being. "But, don't worry. Even though you hurt my daughter, even though you’re of no use to me, I'm going to do you a kindness, because you _are_ the funny one. You have that going for you. I'll knock you unconscious; if you're lucky, you won't feel anything."  
  
He waves his hand again.  
  
And then there is nothing.

* * *

If there is anything real beyond this room, Lexi cannot see it.

It looks like a hospital room, but it is far from anything she has ever seen on the rare occasions that she has had to drag herself into Accident and Emergency when a hunting wound is too deep and severe for her to fix up herself. She’s lying on a bed, in a hospital gown, but where there should be windows and doors, there is only a bright white light, seemingly stretching on and on and on. Shapes are moving around her bedside - possibly the ghosts of other people, doctors, nurses - but Lexi can’t tell. She can’t even tell whether or not she’s dead or alive.  
  
No, she has to be alive. If she were dead, this would be Heaven, going by the colour scheme, and she doesn’t believe in Heaven, not after everything she has seen - and, if it were real, there would be no place for her in a land like that.  
  
 _What are you?_ She asks, but her voice sounds lost in the expanse of the room, and the bright shape leaning over her doesn’t answer, simply seems to smile down at her and send her back to reality.

* * *

When Lexi finally comes back to the world, there’s a searing pain in her forehead and a burning in her throat from the oxygen tube someone has forced down her. She’s hooked up to monitors and fluids, and Varg is by her side, trying to pull the tube free, letting her breathe. She coughs and splutters as the foreign object is gone, her brother clapping her on the back to clear her airways.

“Thank God,” he says, and Lexi isn’t sure if the statement is meant for her or for himself. “I thought you weren’t going to wake up - You’ve been unconscious for so long -”  
“It’s fine.” Lexi cuts him off, surprised at how strong her voice is against the soreness in her throat. “I’m fine. Are you alright? What happened, after Father - well, not Father, but you know what I mean -”  
  
“What can you remember?”  
  
“Nothing,” she replies. “Not between the hotel room, and now. It’s just...I don’t know, blank. White and blank, like I’ve been asleep.”  
  
“Right.” Varg drags a hand through his untidy hair, before perching on the side of her bed, opting to hold her hand, something that surprises her, for Varg is not usually one for physical affection of any kind. “Well, after you were knocked out, Father took control of his body again. He had something in his bag, something that could kill demons - properly kill them - but I would have had to shoot him too, and I couldn’t do that, Lexi. I didn’t have it in me. The demon escaped, no idea where, but the first thing we needed to do was to get you to a hospital. Only...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Well, the demon caught up with us. Crashed into the truck, and pushed us off the road. It made you even worse; you’d already got a serious concussion, caused some internal bleeding, and now you were losing a lot more blood from the accident. It was - _bad_.”   
  
“You don’t seem injured.”  
  
“I was lucky.” Varg pushes a section of hair back from his face; a long mark now runs down the side of his face, only just starting to scar up. “Father and I, we were both lucky. But you - there was a very slim chance that you would even wake up again, after so much damage. They were talking about switching you off -” He stops, a lump in his throat. Lexi squeezes his fingers.  
  
“Well, they won’t have to now. I’m awake now, and I’m still awake.” She glances down at herself. “And I feel fine too. Completely and utterly fine.”  
  
“Hm,” Varg says, disbelieving.   
  
Apparently, her opinion of how she’s feeling does not matter anymore, as he calls for a professional the moment that one becomes available. Lexi shuffles around in bed, in order to get comfortable, and Varg disappears briefly in order to fetch them both something to eat and drink. Lexi is limited to water and a plain sandwich, but she doesn’t mind because her stomach is incredibly empty, and almost anything would be acceptable at this point.  
  
“Jathro’s here too,” Varg says, at a lull in the conversation, as he lets Lexi have half of his sandwich too.  
  
“Jathro? As in, Jathro Kooth?” Jathro is the son of a former hunter, someone that their father had known for years. The three children, being around the same age, bonded pretty well over the lifestyle that they had been brought up with, and kept in contact as much as they could. Lexi likes Jathro; he’s someone to share the road with who isn’t Varg with his collection of rock cassette tapes.  
  
“How many other Jathro’s do we know?” Varg rolls his eyes. “He came as soon as he heard. He was worried about you - about all of us. He’s with Father at the moment, I think, or he’s in the canteen. You know how much he likes food.” They share a chuckle, just as there’s a knock at the door. A doctor is standing there, _Dr J. James_ written on her badge, clutching several sheets of paper in her hand; she must have been treating Lexi for a while, because she seems familiar with Varg.  
  
“Ms Nekross,” she says to Lexi, taking a long look at the blonde girl sitting up in the bed. “I’ve come to see you about your test results.”  
  
“Oh?” Lexi exchanges looks with her brother. “How bad is it?”  
  
“Well, that’s just the thing, Ms Nekross. It’s not bad at all. In fact, you haven’t even got so much as a common cold.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“When you came in, you were unconscious, bloody, bruised, with moderate damage to the brain. We had no idea whether you were going to wake up, and, even if you did, you wouldn’t be the same person you were before the accident.”  
  
“And now?”  
  
“And now, there’s nothing. Your scans are completely clear, your blood levels are fine...There’s no damage at all. In the past day, you’ve completely healed yourself. It should...it should be impossible, but -” She shakes her head. “But the scans aren’t wrong, and they’re definitely _your_ scans. I don’t believe in miracles, Ms Nekross, but a recovery such as this - it makes me wonder if, perhaps, you have some kind of guardian angel watching over you.”  
  
Lexi raises an eyebrow. “Guardian angel? That might be pushing it slightly.”  
  
Doctor James gives her a polite smile. “In any case, you’re a very lucky young woman to get out of such a horrific accident like this. Mr Nekross -” She looks to Varg. “I’ll bring you the discharge paperwork. We might need to keep Lexi in for a few more hours, just to keep an eye on her condition and make sure that she’s completely stable, but, by the end of the day, the pair of you should be able to leave.”  
  
“Leave?” Lexi feels her spirits lift a little at that. “As in, I can go home?”  
  
“Absolutely.” Dr James’ smile looks a little more genuine now at the look of happiness on her patient’s face, and she wishes the two siblings well, before leaving in order to retrieve the official discharge papers.   
  
“What exactly do you have in mind when you say home?” Varg asks, looking both curious and wary at the same time.  
  
“The truck,” Lexi replies truthfully. “Being on the open road with you - that’s home, really.”  
  
“Wow. Pass me the tissues, Lexi. I think there might be a tear in my eye.”  
  
“Shut up.” They laugh together, the sound warm and light, broken a few moments later by the sound of hurried footsteps, heading straight towards them.  
  
“Varg!” Jathro barrels into the room, hair askew, stumbling to a stop when he sees the two siblings. “You need to - Lexi? You’re...you’re awake?”  
  
“Yeah.” She raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Jathro?” Varg questions.  
  
“Wh - Oh, right, yeah, sorry. It’s, um - It’s your father - He’s, uh, he’s collapsed, and he’s not moving -”  
  
Varg is up and out of his seat before Jathro can even finish speaking, practically sprinting down the hallway. Lexi moves to get out of bed too, but Jathro notices, and stops her.  
  
“No. Sit. You need to rest.”  
  
“I need to see my father.”  
  
“No. You don’t.” Jathro squeezes her shoulder, sympathy written there across his face. “You really, really don’t.”

* * *

They bury their father’s ashes in the woods, nearby to where Jathro lives. Nobody says a word during the ordeal, not even Jathro, who usually is not shy about making conversation to fill awkward silences. Instead, he simply scatters salt in a perfect circle around the burial site to prevent any risk of the man rising again as an angry spirit, and walks the two siblings back to the house where they have been staying ever since Lexi’s discharge from the hospital.

“What now?” Lexi eventually says, as the two siblings lean against the truck, Jathro having ducked inside in the search for beer.   
  
“I really don’t know.”  
  
That’s the last that Varg speaks of it, of any of it, for that day - for that week, even. Neither Jathro or Lexi dares to bring it up around the elder sibling, choosing to whisper amongst themselves in the kitchen, safely out of earshot.  
  
“Do you think he’s ever going to open up about it?” Jathro asks, one uncharacteristically sunny afternoon.  
  
“To be honest?” Lexi sighs. “No. Or, not for a very long time. He’ll bottle it up for as long as possible.”  
  
“Must run in the family, then.” This earns him a glare. “I’m just saying. That’s not particularly healthy.”  
  
“I know.” The blonde takes a long gulp of water, scrubbing any stray droplets from her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What do you think did it?”  
  
“Did what?” Lexi raises an eyebrow.  
  
“You know...” Jathro gestures awkwardly to thin air. “ _It_. The deed. Hammered the final nail into the coffin. Threw the final dart. Beat the buzzer. No?”  
  
“Stop with the metaphors. Just spit it out.”  
  
“Your father. Who do you think did it?”  
  
“ _Who?_ ” Lexi repeats, looking at little bewildered at his choice of words. “Doctor James said that it was a heart attack.”

“It might well have been, but who set the wheels in motion, hm? Who -” He glimpses her expression. “Right. No metaphors. Sorry.”  
  
“So, what are you saying? You think something - someone - did it?”  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe. But who would do it? That’s the real question.”

“Gemma?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, from what you’ve told me, she’s a few apples short of a fruit basket, especially after running in to you guys. Besides, didn’t she disappear back to Hell?”

“She disappeared _somewhere_. We don’t know where. It could have been back to Hell, it could have been to find a new body - I really couldn’t tell you.”

“Maybe it was someone else.” Jathro stirs his coffee. “Varg told me what happened, how you got knocked unconscious. Maybe it was...you know -”

“The demon? _The_ demon?”

“He came and knocked you off the road in the first place. Who’s to say your father didn’t get involved in something with it when it came to finish the three of you off?”

“That would make sense,” Lexi muses. “Do you think...?”

“What?”

“Do you think I should go and talk to Varg about this?”

“At some point, yes. I mean, it’s not that you guys aren’t welcome here - it’s nice to have someone here besides myself - but you’ve been here a week, no cases, no research, nothing. You’ve got to get back on the high horse sometime.” At Lexi’s glare, Jathro holds his hands up in a surrender-like gesture. “Last one, I promise.”

Despite his over-use of metaphors, Lexi knows that Jathro is right. She can’t keep avoiding this conversation with Varg; sooner or later, they are going to have to talk about it. With that in mind, she grabs one of Jathro’s beers from the fridge, ignoring his protests about how even siblings by association should respect one’s alcohol stash, and slips outside. Varg is exactly where she last saw him: in the driveway, head under the bonnet of the truck, tinkering away with whatever it is that he does.

"Is the truck alright?" She says, as a way of announcing her arrival.

Varg pokes his head out of the engine, taking the offered beer that she holds out towards him."She should be."

"Need any help?"

Varg snorts dryly. "You, touching my car? I don't think that's such a good idea."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that, for my truck's safety, you're not going anywhere near it, certainly not with a spanner."

" _You're_ a spanner," Lexi retorts, but the insult lacks its usual scorn. "Do you need anything else, then?"

At first, Varg says nothing, so much so that Lexi doubts that he's even going to reply at all, but, then, he huffs suddenly, toying with the oil-stained rug in his hands.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You know what. Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Varg, we've been here for over a week now and you haven't brought up what happened once."

"You know what? You're right."

This catches her off-guard slightly. Usually it takes much longer for Varg to give in when they both know that she’s right."I am?"

"Of course you are.” Varg holds out an arm towards her. “Come here. I'm going to lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and even slow dance."

Lexi glares at him. "Don't patronize me, Varg. Father is dead, whatever weapon he did or didn't have is gone, and it seems pretty likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing has even happened."

"What exactly is it that you want me to say?"

"Say something! Heck, say _anything!_ " Lexi throws her hands up, her frustration evident. "Aren't you angry, even in the slightest? Don't you want revenge? Do you want anything?" 

"Revenge?" Varg looks oddly amused at the suggestion. "That sounds good, Lexi - have you got any ideas about where the demon is? Because I sure haven't. But you know, if we do finally find it - Oh. No, wait, like you said. Father's weapon, the one thing that can actually kill demons, is gone. But, not to worry, I'm sure you've got another way to kill it." At Lexi's silence, he shakes his head. "That's what I thought. We've got nothing, sister. Nothing, okay? So, do you know the only thing I can do? I can work on my truck."

He turns back to the vehicle and doesn't look out from under the bonnet again. Lexi waits beside him for a little while, watching on in silence, just in case conversation is breached again, but it never is, and so she gives up, opting to go for a walk instead. She hasn't been for a proper walk since they got here; after they buried their father, the only trip that she had taken off of the Kooth property was a five minute car journey, accompanying Jathro to the nearby village in order to pick up some shopping for the week ahead.

It's a nice day, actually, warm but with a cool breeze. Lexi leaves her jacket behind at the house, but keeps her gun tucked into the waistband of her shorts, just in case. She's not expecting the demon, or any supernatural creature, to seek them out in the middle of no where like this, but old habits die hard, particularly hunting habits. 

There doesn't seem to be any danger around, though. The winding road is silent, no cars coming or going, and the sun filtering down through the trees is rather serene. It's been a while since Lexi felt any sense of peace; it almost feels wrong to be peaceful at a time like this. She's an orphan now, as is Varg, with both of their parents dead. That's a peculiar thought; she's grown up with the knowledge that she had once had a mother, but that she had died - that was just a fact of life, a part of who she was - but, despite everything, she never considered, really considered, what would happen if she found that her father had died too. For all the times that they hadn't gotten on in the past, she knew that a part of her would die along with her parent, and she can feel it now. There's a space now, where something had once been, but it isn't the all-consuming sadness she speculated that it would be. It's Varg that she's worried about, after all - Varg, who was so loyal, who had pledged absolutely everything to a man who was now gone. What was left for _him_?

She’s only been walking for a little while, lost in her own thoughts, when she stumbles, rather by accident, across any sort of life. The Kooth family household, now owned by Jathro after the death of his mother, is on the outskirts of the tiny village, so it is very rare to see anything more than a field full of sheep or cows on the journey there. One of the fields, however, appears to have been transformed. Row upon row of cars have been parked at the field entrance, a single dirt pathway leading up to the gates of an enormous carnival, complete with streamers, loud music, screaming children, and various rides and attractions. It must have only arrived in the past two days, Lexi reasons, and so decides to make a detour on her walk, following the dirt path, and slipping in through the gates when the people from the ticket office aren’t paying full attention. Being a hunter has allowed her to get into places, with or without fake I.D.

Inside is just as she expected it would be. Families from the village, and probably outside of it too, are swarming, descending on the rides and the stalls like moths would be to a flame. (Only after thinking that does she realise how grim of a comparison that actually is). It reminds her of the one other time that she’s actually ever been to a carnival; she had only been eight at the time, but there had been one in the town that the family were staying in. Their father had told them not to go - under any circumstances, no matter how much Lexi had pleaded - but Varg, eleven years old and easily bored, had decided that he wasn’t going to listen, for once, and took his sister anyway, even if it only was for an hour, during the time in which Father would be investigating the case and wouldn’t be in the hotel room to keep an eye on them. Lexi was pretty sure that her father always knew what happened, and that he had given Varg a rather stern talking-to for it, for the two siblings never did anything like that after the one occasion, but it was definitely one of the more pleasant memories from her childhood on the road. Varg had bought her candyfloss, she remembered, the first taste of it that she had ever had. She’d ended up getting it all over her face, hands, and clothes, but Varg had merely laughed, and scrubbed her clean when they got back to the hotel room.

 _It’s just mess_ , he said, wiping the last of the sticky pink substance from her cheeks. _No harm done. All gone now._

 _All gone now,_ Lexi had parroted. 

That memory feels like a lifetime ago, now.

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Hm?” She jumps, startled a little. During her reminiscing, she’d simply come to a standstill, staring at the candyfloss stall. “Oh, yes, sorry.” She gives the man working on the ride beside her - a ghost train, no less, how ironic - a quick smile. She hasn’t really smiled a lot over the past week. “I was just thinking.”

“I know. Sad, isn’t it?”

Lexi raises an eyebrow. “What is?”

“Well, you know, the recent deaths around here. Two of them, actually. Here -” The man hands her a newspaper, a story splashed across the cover. “These parents - murdered. They were here only a couple of days ago. I knew them. Nice people, they were, and some savage broke in to their house and killed them both.”

“But they left the little girl alive?” Lexi skims the article, before looking up at the man again. “Why is that?”

“Who knows. Guess all we can do is thank God they did.”

“Yeah. Hey, can I keep this? My brother’s in the police force; he might want to have a look.”

“Sure. Help yourself.”

* * *

"You've got to be joking."

"I'm afraid not."

Varg looks up from the copy of the newspaper. "A killer clown? Really?"

"Apparently. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually."

"And this family was at this carnival? Not far from here?"

"Right. The, uh, France Carnival, I think it’s called."

"So how do you know that we're not dealing with some psycho in a clown suit?" Jathro asks over the top of his mug of tea.

"Well, the police have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus, this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Everybody else is saying trauma, of course."

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Varg." Jathro shares a look with the younger sibling, before smirking. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

Varg groans, melodramatic. " _Je_ \- Not this again."

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you?"

Lexi snorts."He still cries whenever he sees Ronald McDonald on television."

"That was _once_ , when I was about _eight_. And, anyway -" Varg sends her a sideways look. "- at least I'm not afraid of flying."

"Excuse me, but planes crash."

"And according to you, clowns kill!"

"So, these types of murders," Jathro says, interrupting the argument that's starting to build up. They could do without that, after all. "Did they ever happen before?"

"According to the Internet, yes. In 1981, the Questoroth Circus, this type of thing happened three times, three different locations."

"Are spirits usually attached to one location, though?" Varg wonders aloud. "A house, or a town?"

"Maybe it's like the Bloody Mary case," Lexi says with a shrug. "Cursed object, just like the mirror was."

"I'm sorry, Bloody what?" Jathro looks confused. 

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later," Varg replies, before looking back to his sister. "So, the spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them, I'm guessing."

"Great. A paranormal scavenger hunt. Just what we need."

"Don't look at me like that. This case was _your_ idea." Varg folds the newspaper, using it to rest his clasped hands on. "By the way, why _is_ that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

"So?"

" _So_ , that's not like you."

"I don't know." Lexi shrugs. "Does there have to be a reason?"

"Of course there's a reason," Varg says briskly. "Come on, out with it. What's going on?"

" _Alright_. I just think, well...this job; it's what Father would have wanted us to do."

"What _Father_ would have wanted?" Varg looks almost amused by this answer, before shaking his head.

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

Mr France gives the two of them a questioning look, eyes flickering between the two badges in his hands and the siblings sitting in his office. 

“And you’re...MI5, you say?”

“That’s correct, Mr France,” Lexi replies. “Undercover investigation, you see. About the recent deaths in this area.”

Mr France - Robert, according to the sign on his desk - gives them a questioning look, as he passes back their I.D. “Don’t the secret service have bigger issues of national security to worry about than a few unfortunate events in the middle of no where?”

“We don’t ask questions, sir,” Varg cuts in. “We just get our briefs and do our job, and, for the time being, our job is being stationed out here.”

“Hardly an undercover job if I know about it, is it?”

“Ethical regulations are the height of priority in MI5, Mr France. We wouldn’t want to cause a fuss, you see; I’m sure you can understand that our cover being blown is an outcome that we do not want.”

“I suppose.” Mr France leans back in his chair, observing them with a shrewd look. “Just, you’re not exactly what I expected MI5 agents to be like, you know? You look like you should be in school, living in some posh neighbourhood with roses growing around the front doors, finding yourselves husbands and wives, two point five kids, the whole lot.”

“Mr France, as much as it might surprise you, I don’t want to go to school,” Lexi says, before Varg can comment with something about MI5 policy. “I want to live my life helping others by serving my country. Is that really so different to what you do with your carnival?”

“Hm.” The man pauses, as if actually considering her words. “Perhaps not, Miss...er -” He risks a quick look at her badge. “- Collins.”

* * *

"Did you really mean that?"

"What?" Lexi glances up at her brother, as she adjusts the France Carnival t-shirt she's wearing, an effort to blend in with the other employees whilst they investigate. (Varg's wearing one too, but he's still got his leather jacket on, despite the warm weather, kind of ruining the effect.)

"The _I don't want to go to school_ speech you just gave in there. Were you just saying that to France, or were you saying it?"

Lexi thinks this over, before sighing. "In all honesty? I don't know."

"You don't know?" Varg repeats. "I thought that once the demon was taken care of and the fat lady sings that you were going take off, head back to the University of Boredom."

"It wasn't boring. But I am having second thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yes. I think...I think Father would have wanted me to stick with the job."

Unlike last time, there's anger in Varg's expression. "Since when do you care what Father wanted? You've spent half of your life doing exactly what he _didn't_ want."

"Well, that wasn't after he died, was it?" Lexi replies, snappy at first, before making an effort to keep her voice neutral. "Things are different now, Varg. A kind of different that we can't come back from. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," Varg says, clearly lying; he's stalked out of the room before Lexi can call him out on it.

* * *

“Okay, so, get this -”

“Well, hello to you too, Jathro,” Lexi says, rolling her eyes, even though the guy on the other end of the phone line can’t see her. “I’m having a lovely time picking up litter, thank you for asking. Yes, what a wonderful idea it was of yours for us to go undercover.”

“Rather you than me,” Jathro snorts, before jumping back to his original train of thought. “I’ve been doing some research, flicking through the stuff that my mother left me, and I think I’ve got something.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a Rakshasa.”

“Come again?”

“Rakshasa. It’s a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, but feed on human flesh.”

“Nice. Sounds very kid-friendly.”

“Apparently so. Children don’t have enough meat on their bones, so they’re really of no use to it, except -”

“Except to trick them into letting them into their houses?” Lexi guesses. “By dressing as clowns.”

“Right. So they can munch on the parents. Gruesome, I know.”

“The carnival is crawling with children and their parents.” Lexi glances around her, as if to prove her own point. “No doubt this is the perfect place for them to feed.”

“That would seem the most likely explanation,” Jathro agrees. “But that’s not all. Rakshasa have to feed a few times every twenty to thirty years; that matches up with the Questoroth incident in the 1980s.” 

“So, the culprit is someone who’s worked at both carnivals?”

“It would seem so.”

“But there’s loads of people working here. That could be anyone.”

“That’s why you’re undercover, Lexi, remember?” Jathro says, before promptly hanging up. The blonde looks at the blank screen, eyebrow raised at the sudden disappearance of Jathro’s voice, before deciding to call her brother and relay the information to him.

“Rakshasa.” Varg tries the word out when she finally manages to pronounce it. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across one before. I’m not sure if Father has either.”

“How are we going to find out who worked at the Questoroth Carnival and this one? There could be hundreds of people working here; how are we going to be able to check all of them?”

“We don’t have to.”

“And why is that?”

“Didn’t you think to take a look at France’s office whilst we were in there?”

“I had more pressing things on my mind.”

“Tut tut, Lexi. If you’d have been paying more attention, you would have noticed the photographs on the wall behind the desk. There’s an old photograph of him standing outside the Questoroth Carnival on opening day, all the way back in the 1980s.”

“How do you know for sure that it’s Questoroth?”

“Before we left Jathro’s, I did a quick Internet search on the carnival. I recognised the artwork in the corner of the photograph; France was standing by the main entrance.”

“You don’t think it’s him, do you?”

“There seems to be no harm investigating the possibility.”

“You sound like Father.”

Varg sighs audibly. “ _Lexi -_ ”

“No, Varg. We need to talk about this. The "strong silent" thing is a load of rubbish."

"Rea - Now? You want to have this conversation _now_?"

"When _are_ we going to have this conversation, then? This isn't just anyone we're talking about. This is our father. I know how you felt about the man."

"I don't see _you_ caring and sharing about it."

"That’s not the point. I don't care how you deal with this, Varg, you just have to deal with it. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I swear, the next time you ask me if I'm okay, I'm going to have you riding in the trailer on the way home. These are your issues, sister, stop dumping them on me."

"My -? What are you talking about?"

"This sudden obedience you have to Father. Suddenly, all you can say is, _oh, what would Father want me to do?_ Lexi, you've spent your entire life fighting with that man. I mean, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, _now_ you want to make it right? Well, you can't. It's too little, too late."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Father's death. Are you?"

Lexi has no answer.

* * *

"You were right."

Varg, preoccupied with salting and burning France's remains, looks up at the sudden sound of his sister's voice. "I usually am, but you're going to have to be a little more specific about what exactly you're referring to."

"About Father." Lexi uses her knife to cut a section of her France Carnival shirt off, only to wrap it around a particularly nasty cut on her arm. For someone getting on a bit, Mr France had certainly known a thing or four about fighting hunters. "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I picked a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life being angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him, because I never got the chance to correct him. So, yes, you're right. What I was doing today, it's too little, too late."

"I know," Varg says, sounding rather like he's unsure of what exactly he's supposed to say, as the phrase I told you so has no place in this conversation.

"I miss him," Lexi continues. "And I feel guilty. I'm not all right, not at all." She gives Varg a pointed look. "But neither are you." 

"I know," he says again, and that's all there is to say.

* * *

They’re back on the road by morning, falling back into the old routine as best they can. It’s rough, though, no denying that; Lexi can see it on Varg’s face when they crash into a nest of vampires, and one asks him - pleads with him, more likely - to let them go. He doesn’t, most likely because Lexi is still chained to the wall, bleeding from a scratch across her neck where one of the creatures had tried to feed on her, but she can see the dilemma on his face, and she’s pretty sure that the vampire - Lenore, she thinks her name is - can see it too. She is the only one who is allowed to go, only when Lexi orders him to.

“I wish that we’d never taken this job,” Varg says afterwards, when he helps her limp back to the truck. “It’s screwed everything up.”

“How so?” Lexi attempts a smile, trying to joke in order to lighten the mood, because she feels like he’s not just talking about this particular case. “Is compassion not one of your finer points?”

“I’m not joking. Think about all the hunts we've ever been on, Lexi. Our whole lives."

"Okay. And?"

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve to be killed? I mean, the way Father raised us -" 

"After what happened to Mother, can you blame him?"

"I know. But that's not the point. He raised us to hate things like that, and I hate them, sister, I do. When I killed the rest of the nest, I didn't even think about it; I think I might have even _enjoyed_ it somewhat." 

"You didn't kill Lenore."

"No, but every instinct told me to."

"But you _didn't_ ," Lexi insists. "That's what matters."

"It’s down to you more than anything else. Because you're a pain in every sense of the word."

"Well, get used to it, because I'm sticking around to be even more of a pain."

"Looking forward to it."

"You should."

They settle into their respective seats in the truck, before Varg speaks again.

“You know, ever since Father, all I can think about is how much this job has cost us." He glances at Lexi. "God, now I sound like you. The world must be ending."

"Hey, there's no shame in that. It is true, after all.” Lexi swats at him playfully. “But people are alive because of you and me, Varg - perhaps that makes it all worth it."

“Perhaps.”

* * *

“How can you be hungry again?”

Lexi pouts in Varg’s direction, as the truck pulls up outside of a service station. Ever sine their heart to heart, the atmosphere has been less awkward between the two of them, and she, for one, is relieved.

“Because I am.”

Varg rolls his eyes. “You know that credit card forgery only works when you use it in moderation.”

“I don’t care. We haven’t got any leads on a case, Jathro’s got nothing, and I want food.”

“Were you always this high maintenance, or is this a new thing? I can’t tell.” Varg sticks his tongue out at her, as he gets out of the truck and slams the door.

Lexi winds down her window a little further, only to lean her head out of it. “Pie!” Varg only pulls a face at her over his shoulder in response. “Bring me some pie!”

 _High maintenance_ , Varg mouths, more to himself than Lexi, but it still makes her smile, as he disappears out of sight, into the small service station. She lays back in her seat again, lace-up boots perched on the dashboard, before she lazily reaches out a hand to turn the dial on the radio that Varg never used, preferring his classic rock cassette tapes. She flicks through a couple of stations, bypassing both, but that’s as far as she gets before all she can hear is static from interference, and then the radio cuts out completely, not coming back, no matter how many times Lexi taps it and turns it off and on again.

It could just be simple interference, plain and simple as that, but nothing has been plain and simple in the past nine months of hunting, and so, with that in mind, she gets out of the truck, with the intent of going to find Varg, voice her concerns to him. It’s a short walk to the service station, maybe twenty or so steps, but she’s barely taken five of those steps, when she sees the chaos going on inside. The building is empty, and anyone who had been unlucky enough to be inside at the time is now scattered across the floor, broken and torn.

Lexi checks every single one, careful not to smear blood over her hands; they’re shaking slightly, and she’s sure they’ll shake even more at the appearance of blood. None of them, the innocent people in the wrong place at the wrong time, are Varg, but that doesn’t mean that he’s completely out of harm’s way, of course. If anything, he could be even further in harm’s way than _she_ is.

When she’s finished, and checked again, just to be absolutely sure that her brother is not here, she rummages in her jacket pocket for her phone. She tries calling Varg first, to no avail - she really hadn’t been expecting him to pick up, but it was worth a shot; she listens to his grouchy, rather mumbled answer phone message, complete with her own voice echoing in the background, yelling at him about something, but she doesn’t bother leaving a message. Instead, she dials the next number, the only other number in her contacts list.

“Lexi?” Jathro picks up almost immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“I -” Lexi falters a little, as she glances around her, at the bodies that someone is going to have the misfortune of finding later on. “I really don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/50snettle/playlist/0uxOfO19IG28tohcApGWGp


End file.
